


Thirty Nights

by creepymura



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Body Worship, Bondage, Bukkake, Crossdressing, Cyborg 2D AU, F/M, Face-Fucking, Forced Feeding, Graphic Description, Humiliation, M/M, Monsters, Phone Sex, Restraints, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, S&M, Sex Machine, Sex Work, Trans Female Character, Vulnerability, bottom murdoc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepymura/pseuds/creepymura
Summary: [Last Update: Humiliation/Vulnerability]A collection of one-shots and two-shots based around Kinktober prompts.





	1. Learning Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 1: sex machine   
> third person, from cyborg 2D's perspective, pre-plastic beach

Cyborg didn't have feelings, not that he knew of, at least.

 

All he knew was his programming, and every possible thought he might have had already been planned out so he didn’t have a chance of thinking about anything else. And he had (originally) been programmed to serve as a weapon, a war machine. His master's very own personal bodyguard.

 

A ticking time bomb in the shape of a half forgotten pretty boy singer that his master would never forget the face of. 

 

Every tick in Cyborg's man made brain had been put there for a distinct purpose, and every click of his hard plastic, ball jointed body was a result of the fine tuning that Murdoc had been through to get his machine perfect, and up to his standards. Using the intense fine tuning of the cyborg’s brain as a means of distracting himself from everything else.

 

There wasn’t a part of his mind that wasn’t used, there wasn’t a body part that didn’t have a purpose. And he had been built that way, specifically.

 

But Cyborg couldn't help but watch his master continue to suffer, idly registering every single emotion that the broken man conveyed, despite it going against his initial programming to do so. 

 

Even in the early days of his conception, Cyborg could recognise the distinct feeling of 'hurt' from Murdoc almost immediately, practically the second his eyes were open. Almost as if that was the very first emotion he learnt.

 

He remembered the first time he could move his body, the first time he could move against Murdoc’s touch,  could register the basic voice commands, and seeing his master's tear-streaked face, staring at him in disbelief that he was even moving. A sudden wave of another emotion, 'sadness', washing over him as he broke down in sobs again, allowing himself to cry into the lap of his new creation, whining a name that Cyborg didn't know. Crying for them where they would never hear it.

 

In those moments, Cyborg learnt another emotion, 'pity', and despite being unsure of where he had learnt it, he stroked the hair of his new master, unable to say anything that might have comforted him, despite how much he wanted to.

 

From then on, Cyborg watched Murdoc, and learnt more and more from him. Watched him drink from a dark bottle with a peeled off label, watched as he allowed himself to spiral deeper and deeper into a hole that he couldn't seem to climb out of, no matter how much he tried to distract himself. 

 

Cyborg learnt 'despair'. 

 

'Despair' and 'hurt' had brief intermissions of 'rage' - Murdoc screaming at nothing in particular until his throat was raw, before sobbing while curled up in the fold out bed in the flat’s living area-comma-communal space. 'Depressed' was an incredibly frequent emotion that Murdoc had, and it was one of the words that Cyborg had learnt to associate with his master.

 

Murdoc probably didn't know that Cyborg was recognising all of this, practically recording everyone of his worst moments, and logging it away in the back of his computer of a mind. Creating a database of everything human about his master, using it as a way of learning more about him, learning more about humans in general, despite there being a total lack of conversation between the two of them. 

 

That was something else that Cyborg had learnt, from Murdoc talking and complaining about the lack of 'conversation' when he talked to Cyborg. From there, Cyborg learnt 'frustration', which would be another emotion that he would associate a lot with Murdoc.

 

Despite how quick of learner Cyborg might have been, Murdoc wasn't all that interested in teaching things to the machine himself. Being more interested in leaving the house every morning while Cyborg charged silently, a bundle of papers under his arm ('hope') and returning home hours later, 'drunk' (a mix of a lot of emotions, Cyborg had found) out of his mind and empty handed ('frustration', once again.)

 

With an insatiable hunger for knowledge that wasn’t going to given to him, Cyborg had to seek information from other sources, and not from his master. So during the hours where Cyborg had the flat to himself, he had figured out how to plug himself into flat's communal internet access with an ethernet cable plugged into the back of his head. 

 

Somehow teaching himself about all the emotions that he had learnt from Murdoc, scanning pages and pages of information about 'depression' and 'anxiety' and 'post traumatic stress disorder' in seconds. Registering every word these pages had to offer him and trying to pinpoint them onto his master's own emotions, trying to find any sort of connection with all the feelings that he didn't really understand.

 

It did all seem to connect though, and Cyborg had even more words that applied to Murdoc in his data banks. Words that Cyborg could have only assumed were negative, due to the way the pages were written, and the accompanying pictures on all the articles he had scanned through.

 

Depressed. Anxious. Frustrated. Traumatised. Stressed. Alcoholic. Addict. 

 

Suffering. That was a word that seemed to connect everything else together.

 

Somehow, and despite it going against everything his programming wanted him to do, Cyborg wanted to help his master. He wanted to comfort him and give him the kind of support and space that all the pages suggested he do. He wanted to be the person that Murdoc yearned for, the name that he whimpered when his voice was hoarse from screaming and the name that he first said when Cyborg had opened his eyes.

 

But he couldn’t be. Cyborg was Murdoc's machine, his bodyguard and his weapon, and that's all he was going to be recognised as. That's what he had been created for, and he wasn't supposed to serve any sort of purpose other than that.

 

Cyborg learnt another emotion from these feelings. He learnt 'guilt' and applied it to his own, twisted up feelings that he didn’t understand. 

 

Guilt for even thinking this way of his master, thinking that he would have wanted or accepted any sort of support from him. Somehow, Cyborg felt that he was disrespecting his master for thinking these things, even though he wasn't sure exactly why. But the guilt was there anyway, and even his mechanical mind registered how horrible it felt.

 

Much later in the evening, when the sun had set and the night streaming into the flat was pitch black, he heard the lock on the flat front door start to click. Cyborg quickly switched on his charging dock, and allowed himself to fall into sleep mode, not wanting to be caught doing anything he shouldn't have been. 

 

But when the morning came and his body was fully charged, Murdoc was lying in front of him, his head nestled in the machine’s slightly too warm lap, and small puddle of vomit to his side, obviously didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. Mumbling to himself softly in his sleep, some names that Cyborg didn't recognise and one he heard almost constantly, his face somewhat gentle despite the likelihood of a bad dream haunting his mind, his eyes shut and his body gently twitching.

 

Cyborg couldn't help but let an involuntary smile tug at his lips, as he learnt a new emotion.

 

'Affection.'

 

-

 

It first happened on one of the bad days, among the many. The first day of October, if the data logs had been registered correctly

 

Murdoc had woken up screaming in the middle of the night, which had been registered in Cyborg's vast voice recognition as a reason to get out of standby mode, and instantly be on alert as to what was happening. Though when his eyes snapped open and he scanned the living area, there was no break in, no intruders, kidnappers or thieves. 

 

Nothing like that.

 

Just Murdoc. Knees tucked against his chest, whimpering and sobbing softly to himself, his face pressed against his crossed arms. Shrouding himself, hiding himself from whoever might have seen, trying to comfort himself when no-one else could.

 

Cyborg relaxed himself a little, now that he knew there was no real kind of danger, and he approached his master. His head cocked slightly to the side as he watched Murdoc slowly calm down knowing that he'd set his machine off, his breathing still stuttered but regulating, and his sobbing getting smaller and smaller with each second. Just waiting for him to register that he was even there. 

 

"Go away, Cyborg." Murdoc mumbled softly, his voice thick with tears. Lifting his head to wipe at his eyes and sniff hard, like he was trying to pretend that nothing had happened. "N-Nothing's wrong, alright? Go back to chargin' or...whatever it is you do when I'm not around. I'm fine."

 

Cyborg wished, in that second, more than ever, that he could speak. That Murdoc had bothered putting in a vocalizer when he had built him, so he could have said something that would have comforted his master, even if it was just a fraction. So he could have asked him what was wrong and genuinely meant it, and even listen to him when he actually opened up.

 

But he couldn't. 

 

Instead of speaking, and possibly comforting him with words alone, Cyborg sat down in front of his master, leaning in slightly to gently touch his tear streaked face. Almost like he was examining the way that Murdoc's eyes widened, just a bit, when Cyborg touched him, and how his lip quivered slightly when he stroked his thumb of his cheek, smearing the tears that spilled from Murdoc's sodden, brown eyes. His head cocked again, like he was asking what was wrong. 

 

Making Murdoc smile, just a little.

 

"You almost act like him, sometimes.When I look at ya, sometimes I think it’s still him. Like he hasn’t gone away a-and...he’s still with me." Murdoc said, his voice quivering as he touched Cyborg's hand, keening against the touch like it was the first time had been touched in years. And maybe that had been true, and this was the first time he'd been touched like this. "Not enough for you t'look like him, you gotta act like him too, eh?" Chuckling to himself despite looking like he wanted to cry again. "Dunno how I managed that."

 

Cyborg didn't know who the 'him' Murdoc referred to was, but he was satisfied to serve that purpose for his master, as he was happy to serve him at all. 

 

Murdoc leaned closer to him, shifting on the sofa slightly and pressing their foreheads together, his breathing shallow as he looked up at his machine. Into his deep, dark eyes like he was looking at something he missed. Something he had seen before. His eyebrows knitting together in 'anguish' as a few more tears spilled down his cheeks as he let out a shaky sigh. Squeezing his eyes shut and clinging onto Cyborg, desperately, like he was the only means of grounding him before he started to float away.

 

Cyborg learnt 'sorrow.' 

 

Knowing that he didn't need to give any sort of a warning to his machine, Murdoc leaned in and kissed Cyborg, softly, on the lips. And because Cyborg didn't pull back from the kiss, neither did he. And somehow that all seemed to make sense in Cyborg's mechanical mind.

 

They stayed like that for a while. Tangled up with each other, kissing without any sort of meaning behind it. No heat from Murdoc and no resistance from Cyborg, it was just a kiss that simply existed. Without meaning, but without needing meaning. 

 

And maybe that was enough. 

 

Maybe that's all Murdoc wanted. 

 

Someone to exist with, someone to acknowledge that he was, in fact, existing. 

 

He had spent so many years alone, suffering by himself. Maybe he just needed someone to remind him that he wasn't alone. Not really. Even if he had to make the company himself, at the very least it was company. Something to stop him from going insane.

 

At least that's how Cyborg saw it.

 

Murdoc ran his tongue over Cyborg's lips, his arms around the machine's neck growing tighter as he pulled the skinny plastic frame closer to him. Tumbling back against the sofa as the kiss deepened, with Cyborg's permission behind it, of course, and one of Murdoc's legs went up to wrap around Cyborg's body. Keeping him close, no chance of pulling away, as if the thought of pulling away was even capable of being processed in his head.

 

Cyborg could feel his body get hotter, and his processing power was getting slower. Unable to register the emotions that he was usually so adamant of documenting. Unable to even understand why he, himself, was reacting like this.

 

His usual thoughts were crowded with an intense feeling of want. He wanted to keep kissing Murdoc, grip his body tighter, and just feel him against his body. And after that, do anything that his master might have wanted. Serve him anyway that he wanted and take delight in it. 

 

That was, at least, something in his programming. Though it probably wasn't there for this purpose.

 

"Stua-Cyborg, I mean." Murdoc mumbled, quickly correcting himself before Cyborg's slowed brain could register the wrong name being used. Whatever that might have meant. "I-I wanna try something, alright? Will you let me do that?" 

 

He kissed him again, deeper and much more heated than the other one's had been. Hands travelling down Cyborg's body, squeezing areas that made his body flinch, pressing his face up against Murdoc's neck, gasping out a tinny squeak despite the lack of a vocalizer. He gripped his master's shirt tightly in his fists, nodding frantically, agreeing to whatever Murdoc might have wanted to do because he couldn't say it.

 

"There's my good boy again."

 

Murdoc sat up, Cyborg still in his lap, before he coaxed him onto the sofa. Standing up and kissing his forehead, tucking a strand of purple, plastic hair behind his ear, cooing soft, sweet words as if he was talking to someone who was genuinely listening. Telling him he'd only be a minute, take your clothes off and keep yourself occupied, he added, his tone slightly teasing. Ruffling the machine's hair affectionately before walking to the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

 

Cyborg's mind was racing as he stood to his feet himself and unzipping his vest, the request from Murdoc registered and needing to be obeyed. This must have been going against every code of his programming as Murdoc's bodyguard, and even his personal data logs were confused about this entire thing. His mechanical brain was in overdrive as he stripped down, setting his shorts aside with his vest. 

 

Half curious about his own body, something he'd never been that interested in before, he slowly touched the slit between his legs, feeling where the more mechanical parts of him were, each of the metal nodes and screws that he was used to. Wondering why now the slit was wet, lubricating itself for some unknown reason. It was cool when Cyborg touched it, so his brain just went to leaking coolant in his system, or something. Wondering if maybe that might have been dangerous.

 

Cyborg didn't really know what his master had in stall for him, or why his body was feeling so hot and he couldn't stop squirming even as he sat still, and the slit between his legs seemed to ache, despite the lack of pain receptors. Touching it only seemed to further this ache but he didn't want to stop touching it. Almost like the ache was...good?

 

Cyborg learnt 'arousal'.

 

Murdoc came back shortly after, having undressed himself in the spare room, which only resulted in Cyborg's body feeling even hotter and more coolant leaking out of him. Barely noticing something small in Murdoc's hands, a screw in attachment that Cyborg had never seen before. Only lead to his mind racing even more despite how much he was already overheating.

 

"Spread your legs for me." He asked, his voice soft but firm that immediately set off Cyborg's voice recognition. He knelt down between Cyborg's open legs, screwing the attachment into his slit, a slight frown on his face as he concentrated on aligning the right parts with the right nodes. 

 

He stroked his thumb across one of the now silicone covered nodes curiously, smirking lightly to himself the second Cyborg tensed up under his touch, thighs instinctively wanting to squeeze together despite Murdoc being in the way. This was obviously the reaction that Murdoc wanted too, since he quickly knelt up to get on the sofa, a firm grip on Cyborg's thighs, keeping them open.

 

"You leakin' for me, lovely?" He asked, looking down at Cyborg's dripping slit and chuckling softly to himself. Leaning in closer to his machine's body, his hands going up to stroke over the nodes again, making Cyborg shiver even more, tinny whines slipping out of him. "All nice and wet for me, eh?" Pressing a finger inside of him, forcing out a choked out gasp. "Looking so pretty. Can't help but want you when you look like this."

 

A second finger went inside of him just as easily as the first one did, still surprising Cyborg though, and forcing out more sounds that he didn't even know he could make.

 

"When you look like him. Just the way he did when we did this together."

  
  
  


The fingers were pulled out of him, just as quickly as they had been pushed in, and Murdoc got into position between Cyborg's legs. Stroking himself as he looked down at Cyborg, his gaze 'hungry' and 'longing' for something even more.

 

All Cyborg could do was take in shuddering breaths in an attempt to cool himself down some more, despite the constantly dripping coolant between his thighs. Open his legs a little more to accommodate Murdoc and buck his hips, just slightly, showing him that he wanted it. All things that he somehow knew that Murdoc wanted, that he liked. 

 

Murdoc just grinned with satisfaction down on him, sharp white teeth showing as he pressed himself deep into Cyborg's spread slit, forcing his machine's back to arch and a long, mechanical whine past his lips. For a second, Cyborg wished that he might have been able to say his master's name, to call it out and make him know who he belonged to.

 

His master was quick to push more and more of those tinny sounds out of him as he thrusted deeper, in and out, inside of Cyborg, the grip on his fragile plastic body almost crushing. Giving him no time at all to prepare himself for each push, each hard thrust, because a machine didn't need that sort of time. 

 

The name that Murdoc always said had managed to crop up, as Cyborg expected. 

 

Murdoc stuttered disjointed dirty talk through grit teeth, looking down at Cyborg through half lidded eyes. Calling him loose and wet, telling him how good his dirty little cunt felt against his dick, how much he loved how it all felt.

 

Calling him "Stuart", telling him how much he loved him, how fucking good he felt, how much of a good boy he was being. 

 

Saying how much he missed him, please come home, he needed him more than he ever had before. He was desperate, he was going crazy without him. 

 

I need you, Stu, please, I love you so much.

I'll say it again and again until you hear me. Until you understand how much I love you, blue bird.

Please. Come home.

 

Murdoc started to sob again, which interrupted the pace of his thrusting, not that Cyborg really knew any different. But the machine was quiet, watching and waiting for when his master might stop crying. 

 

Pulling away slightly when he couldn't stop, and he had to stop everything else to stroke his face again, push the curly fringe out of his face and kiss down his cheeks, kiss the tears away. The soft whirring of his fans finally being given space to cool his body down almost working as an effective white noise for his master, shushing him softly, telling him that everything would be okay without words needing to be said.

 

But Murdoc couldn't stop crying, vicious sobs wracking his body and forcing him to curl in on himself again, protecting himself despite having someone else that could protect him now. But Cyborg let him do that, because he needed that,  but didn't leave his side for even a second all the time that he sobbed.

 

Stroking his tangling hair and wiping away at the tears when Murdoc gave him the chance to. Keeping his fans on as a means of filling the silence, so there was one other sound in the room other than his master's relentless sobs. 

 

His name still on his lips. Stuart. Stuart. Stuart.

 

Cyborg didn't know who Stuart was, or what he could have meant to Murdoc, but he knew that he would have done anything to show them just how much Murdoc cared about them. How much it was killing him that they weren't here, with him. 

 

"You look just like him." Murdoc hiccuped softly, finally looking up at Cyborg with red eyes, tear streaked cheeks, trying to hide everything that he had just spilled out. "I dunno why I did that. Dunno why I made you look like him."

 

Cyborg didn't know either.

 

Cyborg learnt 'heartbroken'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in a disneyworld hotel rn publishing this shit from the lobby. that's how much i care. 
> 
> i'm doing this again! updates will be every other day for the next two or so weeks due to being on holiday, but they will be made! I'm exited bish :)
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if u wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	2. Ala Mode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 2: forced feeding  
> second person, from 2D's perspective, slight eating disorder ment

"Murdoc, let me up already! I really don't think I can take anymore."

 

"Aw, come on, don't be a spoilsport. You're the one who said you could finish the whole carton, love. I’m just helping you see it through. I think I should be allowed to do that, since I bought it for you too."

 

"Stop laughing at me, ya twat, I'm being serious! Feels like I'm gonna puke already."

 

"Shouldn't have been so greedy to begin with then, should ya?"

 

Over the time that you had known him, you had learnt a few very important things about Murdoc Niccals.

 

First, he would stop at nothing to prove a point. Even if it inconvenienced him, if it would take up more time than just leaving it alone, and if there was a high risk that he’d get his front covered in vomit by the end of it, he would do anything to prove to someone that he was right, and they were wrong, because he thought of himself just that highly.

 

Second, he had an incredibly twisted sense of humour. And you were usually the butt of every one of his jokes.

 

No wonder he found it so hilarious that, despite your insistence that you could finish an entire carton of very expensive madagascar vanilla soy ice cream (that he’d treated you to as well), you were now suddenly writhing underneath him, and clamping your lips shut in front of a hovering spoon to prevent him from giving you anymore of it, because you felt that sick.

 

And you knew that he found it funny, dreadfully funny in fact, because he hadn’t stopped smiling since he climbed onto you and pinned you down to his sofa. Waggling the spoon in front of your straining face, chuckling to himself and taunting you, making sure that you knew that you weren’t getting up until he was satisfied.

 

Though that was unlikely. 

 

The third thing you’d learned about Murdoc was that he was rarely easy to satisfy. Which had certainly lead to an exciting life in the bedroom for the last few months, though it was far less exciting when he was trying to force expensive ice cream down your throat, just because he was bored and wanted to see what would happen. Much, much less exciting when you knew exactly what was going to happen if he did keep going

 

Then again, he might have known what was going to happen too. You never really knew with him, if he did things out of morbid curiosity or for some other reason.

 

That was the fourth thing you has learned about him. Expect the unexpected.

 

"I swear to god, Murdoc, if ya don't let me up, I'll puke down your front. Won't even feel bad about it either, cus you deserve it that much!"

 

He had you effectively pinned down on his van's folded in sofa bed, straddling your chest and keeping you still underneath him no matter how much you writhed with his body weight alone. Like you could have thrown him off anyway though. You were like a defenceless deer under a hungry lion in a position like this, and he knew that, and liked the comparison too.

 

"Didn't I say you were gonna be sick earlier?" He asked, his eyebrow slightly raised in a questioning look as he scraped up more of the soy ice cream onto his spoon. "And didn't you tell me to fuck off because you could eat whatever you wanted?" Smirking to himself as he held the full spoon in front of your face again, like he had been doing for the last ten or so minutes. "And yet, who can't seem to finish the job, eh?"

 

"You just want me to tell you that you were right and I was wrong, huh?" You glared up at him, trying to ignore how the melting ice cream was dripping onto your chin the longer that you ignored it. "Is that it?"

 

"I want you to finish the job, Stu." He replied with a sadistic smile. "No sense in you freezing an almost empty carton of ice cream no-one else is gonna eat, and I'm not gonna let you throw it away." 

 

He pressed the spoon up against your clamped together lips, though he didn't seem at all frustrated by your stubborn behaviour. Much more amused if anything else. 

 

"Come on now, Stuart, don't be a brat. This is the last spoonful. I'll leave you alone if you just eat this."

 

"Yeah, well, I genuinely think if I eat one more thing, I'm gonna vomit." You barked up at him, before he managed to shove the heaping spoon past your lips again, taking advantage of your compulsive need to argue with him as always. Gripping your cheeks in a somewhat harsh grip and waiting for you to swallow it down.

 

Knowing you wouldn't have spat it out or tried to pull away from him. Using that knowledge against you.

 

When you eventually had enough of his silent staring, waiting for you to get it over with, and you were bored of just glaring back at him, you reluctantly swallowed down the mouthful of quickly melting ice cream with a somewhat pained groan. You knew that your stomach was already going to hate you just for being somewhat greedy during the film, before Murdoc had gotten so interested in making you suffer as well, so trying to put up with a too full stomach as well as proving him right was making your entire body churn and your gut ache. 

 

"There we go." He said softly, with an absolutely sick smirk on his face. Giving your cheek an affectionate little tap before he moved up the sofa and off your chest, setting the empty carton and spoon down on the floor. 

 

He resettled himself on your hips, still managing to keep you pinned down, eyeing you up like he was looking at a piece of meat. Looking down at the barely there bulge under your shirt and stroking along the bottom of it, as if he was waiting for you to react.

 

All you could do was grimace.

 

"Look at that lovely little belly ya got now. That's much better, isn't it?" His voice teasing and almost mean as he folded up the hem of your shirt, idly stroking the blue hairs on your stomach, and giving your slightly bulging tummy an affectionate little prod. “Yeah. Much better.”

 

"You are absolutely depraved, you know that?" You mumbled, wiping your mouth with the heel of your hand now that he had finally given you enough space to move. Trying to hold back a belch that you felt at the back of your throat, already feeling your stomach ache and your insides turn around as a result of being stuffed so full. 

 

Murdoc just chuckled gruffly, obviously oh so proud of himself as he moved close to you again, an affectionate, even comforting, arm around your waist. Pulling you closer to him, so your faces were nearly touching 

 

"Maybe." He said, licking his thumb and rubbing at a sticky spot under your lip. "But at least I like ya when you actually look like a real person, and not like a twiglet that grew legs, eh?" 

 

Pulling his touch back, he brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked off whatever lingering stickiness he had wiped away. Flashed you a sharp toothed grin when he caught the way that your cheeks were burning just looking at him. 

 

Knowing that you couldn't stay annoyed at him for very long, even when he pulled stunts like this.

 

"No harm in that, is there?"

 

You just pouted irritably, still blushing fiercely but looking away as a form of protest, but all that did was made him laugh at you again. It frustrated you when that was his response to your irritation, like he didn't take you or your feelings that seriously. Though that was hardly out of character for him.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure of it." You muttered irritably, glaring at him, clearly annoyed, again. "You gonna let me up then or just leave me here to suffer while you make fun of me for being a fat arse."

 

"I was making fun of you for being a greedy little piglet who tried to finish a carton of ice cream in under an hour, actually. Don't care how much of a fat arse y'might be." He said with a teasing little smirk, still stroking your stomach, in a way you didn't particularly care for. "But I hardly think you'll be 'suffering' for much longer, mate. I'd hate t'think that I left you waiting for any sort of pleasure."

 

You didn't know why you had assumed this wasn't some sort of new fetish for him. He always managed to make everything come back to what he could get off to, even if it was something outlandish, even by his standards. 

 

Though you didn't have much time to even consider that before he was kissing you, jolting you away from your wandering thoughts and grounding you quickly and efficiently back in his van, underneath him, exactly where he wanted you.

 

You could feel his smirk against your lips, and for some bizarre reason, it made your dick throb hard underneath your jeans. Just knowing that he was taking what he wanted without any sort of consequence or anger from you, because you could never be mad at him for longer than two minutes.

 

Even though your stomach was still hurting, and that was technically his fault.

 

You gasped and shuddered as he feverishly kissed down your neck, only pulling away for a second so that he could tug your shirt off over your head. Running his hands down your front, stroking your newly bulging belly and grinning against your burning skin. 

 

Making you whimper as you felt more self conscious than you had ever felt in front of him before. Keening closer to him, almost as a means of hiding yourself. Hands around his neck, face pressed into his shoulder to muffle your whimpers just a little bit more.

 

"So cute. Such a pretty little body." He cooed softly, playfully nipping at your neck as his hands slipped down your hips, stroking slowly before he gave your tummy a rough pinch, which only forced you to whine and cling onto him even more desperately than before. Cheeks burning, body shaking even more.

 

No doubt he loved that. Loved seeing you vulnerable, bordering embarrassed like that. 

 

"Dunno why you're so self conscious, mate." He said, his voice almost calming as he stroked over where he pinched apologetically. His free hand stroking further up your back, a hand pushed through your hair, scratching at your scalp in a gentle, affectionate way that he knew you liked. Making up for his teasing before, making you keen up more against the touch. "Y'look lovely like this. That sweet little belly out. It's absolutely precious."

 

"Murdoc..." You moaned softly, as the hand on your stomach descended down to your hip again, keeping your body close to his, his lips barely grazing yours.

 

"You always did look better when you were a bit softer. When you actually filled your jeans out, remember that? Had such a lovely little arse in the early days. Would be nice if I still had something t'grab back there instead of just skin and bone." Chuckling lightly to himself, his own hips jutting slightly so you could feel the ache under his joggers against your own, despite the barriers in the way. Reminding you that he did actually like this, very much in fact. He had gotten hard much quicker than he usually did.

 

"Bit of a weird compliment." You said, smiling to yourself as you pressed closer to him, your hand going between the two of your bodies and reaching down the front of his trousers, and stroking his dick slowly through his boxers. Your thumb rubbing against his slit, feeling the piercing and his pre-cum soak through the thin cotton.

 

You liked the way he gripped onto you when you did that, when his nails dug into your skin and you could hear him hiss through grit teeth, pressing his face against your shoulder. Giving you a tiny rush of power, even though you knew he was controlling this entire thing, it was nice to pretend for even a second.

 

"When you got a boyfriend with an eating disorder, gotta try and be a bit subliminal." He mumbled, and you smiled in spite of yourself.

 

You wouldn't have called your "condition" an eating disorder, in any way. Your various allergies and dietary requirements, combined with your already sporadic eating habits and executive dysfunction issues meant that you rarely ate unless you were reminded to, and even then you picked at your food and ate like a bird. Which did mean you were unhealthy and just slightly underweight. Prone to faint and stumble when you had to walk more than ten minutes, let alone when you had to run any where. 

 

You couldn't blame him for being worried about you. You would have been worried about you.

 

"So this wasn't just to fuel a bit of a feederism kink you have?" You asked, still smiling and stroking his dick, your other hand running down his back, down the more sensitive parts of his spine, making him moan. "You actually had a motive that wasn't somehow geared 'round your fetishes?"

 

"It's still a bit of a kink." He managed to get out, finally pulling himself away from your shoulder to give himself some air to breath. "Should never underestimate a man's capability to turn something into a means of getting off quicker.

 

"Of course it is." You laughed.

 

"Can you blame me though?" He said, hands going up to cup your cheeks, lips again barely grazing yours. "Already perfect like this, couldn't imagine how fuckin' gorgeous you'd look, just a bit softer."

 

Before you could realise what he was going, he roughly pushed you back against the sofa, somehow yanking your jeans and boxers down around your ankles in the seconds before you could comprehend what he was even doing. Though his lips against yours worked as a wonderful distraction, locked in a hard bruising kiss, his sharp nails digging harsh groves into your hips as you tried to finish what he was doing and kick away your underwear yourself. 

 

After a few too many seconds of discomfort, he quickly re positioned himself between your legs, yanking down his own jogging bottoms and underwear and forcing your body to warp against his and your back to arch almost painfully. Roughly palming your hips, your bare ass, squeezing and groping as he groaned against your lips, driven insatiable by his own desires. Even pinching at your stomach just to be that much more of a bastard.

 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, body language already begging for his attention, ignoring the way that your stomach was still aching and hurting and how your guts were still twisting from his attention before, though it felt less and less like you were going to end up being sick down his front if he wasn't careful. Or maybe those feelings were still there, but your restless desire to be fucked into next week was a much higher priority, and you could only focus on one thing at a time.

 

He eventually had to pull away from you, panting heavily against your lips before he leaned to the side to get his discarded jeans from before. Fumbling in the pockets to find a condom packet he must have stashed in there earlier.

 

"How long ya been planning this then?" You asked, breathlessly giggling to yourself as he tore the foil open with his teeth.

 

"Always plan for the best outcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i lasted two days until i cracked out the msi titles. p good 4 me tbh 
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com  
> ray x
> 
> (please consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!)


	3. Payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 3: bukkake   
> second person, murdoc's perspective

You knew that you had it coming. 

It was only a matter of time until Stuart would be sick of being treated like a doormat, sick of remembering everything that you had done together back at Kong Studios, so many years ago, and not doing anything about it. Just pretending that there was no bad blood between the two of you for the sake of the band, for the sake of everyone else, must have taken a toll on him, so it wasn't like you could blame him for it.

He went to therapy, frequently, once sometimes twice a week when things were particularly bad. You never asked him what he talked about with his therapist, if it helped him or gave him some kind of peace of mind. You just let him get on with it, choosing not to get yourself involved since you were pretty much the only reason he even had to go.

But things had been getting better. At least that's what you had hoped.

Stuart was looking healthier, you thought, gained a healthy amount of weight and the dark circles under his eyes were starting to fade little by little. He took a lot of medication now, but that was hardly any different to what he used to do. At the very least, it was actual prescribed stuff to combat his symptoms depression and mass anxiety, and not just over the counter painkillers that he popped like penny sweets, hoping they would do even an ounce of good.

He left the house sometimes, but less than he used to, since he didn't have to work a job that he didn't like just to keep a house anymore. When he did leave, it was usually prompted by Noodle or Russel, because one of them wanted to go shopping or go out for dinner, something like that, and he'd tag along with an eager smile.

And even you couldn't bring yourself to resent him for trying to get better. Even if it wasn't helping your own masochistic tendencies to just let yourself suffer while everyone else continued to improve.

So you knew you had it coming. You knew he'd one day figure out how to take things out on you, like you used to do to him. And you couldn't even blame him for it.

Because at the very least, he was paying attention to you, after weeks of simply pretending that you didn't even exist.

-

Still, in hindsight, you weren't quite sure how you'd managed to get yourself into this sort of situation.

Maybe you had passed out after getting blackout drunk, or maybe he'd caught you by surprise and you just didn't remember any of it. Or maybe he'd just gotten exponentially better at convincing you to do what he wanted, because you were desperate to cure the bad blood between the two of you, and he could have easily used that to his advantage.

Not like he would have. But he could have.

However it had happened, you were in a bathroom. A public bathroom, if you recognised correctly, with stalls and urinals and flickering luminescent lighting and white tile. Similar to the one back at Kong, actually. 

He'd picked out his eerie location quite well.

You were handcuffed to one of the urinal pipes, because of course you were, and the handcuffs were tight enough that they were digging, hard, into your skin. Pulling at them just made it hurt more, and made the metal chain scrape against the pipe, making you shudder. 

You were sitting, not kneeling, thankfully, since your joints would have hurt for days if you'd been forced into an uncomfortable position like that for longer than ten minutes. But a spreader bar buckled around your ankles kept your legs spread open, and your arms above your head were already starting to ache even when you didn't pull at the cuffs.

Not naked though, you had some kind of privacy, at the very least. 

Not blindfolded either, but gagged with a thick ring between your sharp teeth that forced your mouth open uncomfortably, and only hurt more when you tried to make your jaw relax around it. Drool already leaking down your chin, there was no chance of being able to make any sort of coherent words with it in the way.

Stuart was sitting in front of you, in a grey folding chair, looking down at you. Sitting forward in the chair, he rested his elbow on his knee, and his head rested in his hand. A lit cigarette dangled carelessly from his other hand, and he occasionally brought it up to his lips to take a long drag. Filling the bathroom with a cloud of smoke when he breathed out, and then went back to looking at you.

You almost felt like you were being interrogating with him staring like that, and you in such a vulnerable position in front of him. He said nothing, of course, keeping you in the dark as to what his actual motivations behind all of this were, and just looked at you. Almost like he was trying to work out a problem that was too complicated, even more so when his eyebrows knit together and he frowned, taking another drag from his cigarette.

You wondered for maybe half a second if this had been something that his therapist had suggested to him. As a form of hands on therapy to really tackle his demons and fight them himself. Because, of course, you were the source of every one of his demons, and maybe if he tackled his problem with you, he would tackle everything.

As you thought about this as a possibility, Stuart leaned forward enough that he could put out his cigarette on the floor in front of you, stubbing out the ember, the whirl of white smoke capturing your attention before it faded away completely.

You looked from the stubbed out cigarette to him, blinking at him almost quizzically because you couldn't ask any sort of question. You could hear the sound of his lips parting, and he let out a long, almost exasperated sigh.

"Do you remember when you did this to me? Back at Kong?" Stuart asked, finally breaking the long silence between the two of you and leaning back in his chair. You didn't nod or shake your head immediately, which must have annoyed him because he frowned again. "Invited the recorders from Parlophone round, said they could do whatever they wanted. Must have been about...ten years ago or something, but it's not something I'd usually think you'd forget, ya know."

Eventually the memory came back to you, and you nodded slowly. He was clearly satisfied with your answer, but he didn't smile or anything, since he was clearly still somewhat sore about the memory.

"Do you know what's weird about us, Murdoc?" He asked again, but didn't wait for you to even try and answer. "I can remember exactly how I felt when you did this. I was freaked out, of course, but like. I was weirdly turned on as well. Like I was doing something to make you proud of me." He let out an amused huff through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was obsessed with making you happy that it became a turn on for me. So even shit like this would get me off."

He chuckled again, shaking his head. You didn't really know why he found that so funny.

"How about you then? Are you turned on?" He continued, leaning forward in his chair, his eyebrows slightly raised. "Are you getting off on the idea that you could make me proud? That maybe if you suck maybe ten stranger's dicks, I'll be proud enough that maybe I would let you sleep in my bed instead of leaving you to suffer by yourself?"

You couldn't do anything else than shake your head, trying not to look at him, not meet his eyes or the smug satisfaction in his face.

"Yeah. I didn't think so."

You couldn't help but feel your heart sink a little.

“You know, when I look at you sometimes, I don’t even think I see a person anymore.” He said, his voice somewhat deadpan, his body relaxing in his office chair, staring down at you with his dark, empty eyes. Emotionless, so hard to read, so different from his usual persona around you. A difference that you didn't like, you didn't trust. “Actually, you’re more like a virus, aren't you?" He asked, his head cocked to the side slightly. "A poison that somehow managed to take a shape that I trusted for twenty years, despite me knowing just how toxic you really are. Just because I believed that shape’s lies for such a long time. Because I thought there was some good in it worth saving. When there wasn't anything there.”

You tried to vocalise a response around the ring gag, tried to argue back, shout at him and convince him otherwise, but with words reduced to empty grunts, groans and splutters of drool down your chin, all you could do was scowl and tug hard at your handcuffs, sure to leave lines in your skin. Making his lips quirk up just slightly, in a somewhat amused smirk, at the very least.

You’re not sure why that hurt even more than any pain he was putting you through. The malicious amusement at your suffering.

"I do kind of understand why you did it though. Everything back at Kong, everything you used to do. I get it all now.” Stuart continued, standing up and pacing across the bathroom, trainers squeaking against the cold tile. 

Standing over you and casting his rigid shadow against the wall in the sickly luminescent light. The white light bouncing off the greying tiles washed out all the regular colour in his skin and made him look almost frightening. Like a monster standing above you. You could only imagine how you must have looked.

“There’s something thrilling about being above someone. Having them completely under your control, controlling everything they do. I can see why you liked it so much.” He lifted his foot slightly, and brought it down hard on the spreader bar that kept your legs open. Keeping you still and static underneath him. Cornering you, effectively, pinning you down.

Helpless. 

The handcuff chain still rattled against the urinal pipe, just from how much your hands were shaking. Stuart just chuckled lightly at the sudden drop in your facial expression, your sudden stillness underneath him. Amused by your fear, how you seemed to embody anxiety when he looked at you. The irony of the sudden switch of positions was not at all lost on you, though you were hardly finding the funny side to this, unlike him.

“Dunno what you’re so skittish about, Murdoc.” He mumbled, smirked again once he’d stopped laughing, going down on one knee in front of you, his foot still planting the bar down against the tiles of the bathroom. A soft grip on your chin, forcing eye contact despite his empty eyes. “Because I think you know what’s coming next."

You swallowed hard against a lump in your throat and nodded your head. 

"You did it to me, and I think it’s time I did it to you, don’t you think?”

You didn't respond to that, couldn't even think of any sort of response even if you could use your words.

You couldn't apologise, both of you were far too past anything like that repairing the tatters of whatever your relationship might have been now. And reasoning and begging would have only worked if you were in anyway genuine. If you didn't want this, and the fear was real. 

But he could see right through you, like he always could. He knew some sick, masochistic part of you wanted this, desperately needed it. And you couldn't disagree because it was true.

You needed him to punish you, you needed him to put you through everything sick and twisted that you had put him through. You needed to feel every ounce of fear, anxiety and uncertainty that you had put him through so many years ago. 

You needed to be hurt. 

And he needed it too. 

And this was the only thing that your crumbled down relationship would have allowed. There was no chance of soft words, gentle touches and kisses in the middle of the night that you had before. No chance of a relationship again, a boyfriend, or even just a regular friend again.

You didn't deserve it, and he didn't want it. 

But this was what you deserved, and this was clearly what he wanted. 

"It suits you, ya know." Stuart said, alerting you out of your daze as he stood up to his full height again, hands in his pockets. "Being under me. You always said that you couldn't be a submissive, couldn't handle it or some shit, but you really look best like this." 

You just wished you didn't have to look at him when he did all of this. So you didn't have to see the genuine anger and hurt in his eyes. So you didn't have to see that he actually meant everything that he said. You didn’t know why he’d left the blindfold out, when his recreation of the scene had been so through otherwise.

You didn’t really get the idea behind that choice.

"Well, no point delaying the inevitable I suppose, eh Muds?" He walked back over to his chair, glancing at you over his shoulder as he spoke. 

As he sat down, he pulled his phone out of his jean pocket and unlocked it, sitting forward in his seat, just enough that you might have been able to see the conversation on the screen. A Twitter group chat, that's what you could make out when you squinted at it enough, though you couldn't see the actual contents of the chat box.

"Organised it on my twitter. Obviously not the band one, just my own private account." Smirking to himself and sitting back, tucking his phone away again. "I'm not stupid enough to jeopardise our record deal with a bad blow job. Just called up some lads who were interested in a good time, that's all."

In those moments, you deeply resented him for not giving you a blindfold, like you had him. So far gone that he couldn't even offer you that small act of kindness.

Because at least with a blindfold, you wouldn't have had to see the amount of people that had piled into the bathroom the moment that he had opened the door, all the people he must have invited round to participate in this humiliating display. You wouldn't have had to see them all looking down on you, devoid of any kind of emotion in each of their covered faces, but probably all thinking the exact same thing as they stared at you. With a blindfold in the way, you could have let your head get away from you for those gruelling minutes, pretend that this wasn't really happening, that it was someone else, and still get the praise you deserved at the end of it.

But without a blindfold, you could see everything. Everyone.

And it terrified you more than you would ever say.

There were around ten or twelve of them, though you couldn't really get a good sense of it from where you were looking. All dressed differently, mostly in black and various shades of grey, but wearing the same white mask over their faces, obscuring every emotion, every vaguely human attribute that you might have been able to see. Couldn't even through the slit eye holes of the masks in this harsh light, so they just all looked like empty, black holes, void of personality or personhood.

Almost looking like monsters, when your mind immediately went to the worst. The same sort of demons that haunted your mind and taunted you, reminding you of ever mistake you had ever made.

You couldn't say anything. Couldn't beg or try to reason with Stuart in anyway. All you could do was whimper, trying to keep quiet, and try to cower back against the bathroom wall, pulling at your cuffs harder, sure to cut lines into your skin from there.

Trying to look at Stuart through the crowd of silent strangers. Make him just how much this was getting to you, make him know that whatever he was doing was working. 

He had always told you that he didn't have a sadistic streak in him. He didn't take enjoyment from watching you suffer, no matter how many times he chose to indulge your more masochistic side. So you didn't even know if this was going to do anything for him, or if this was just some kind of petty revenge that he wanted to act out on you.

You would have given anything to look into his head right now. Just to see what he was thinking, if he was even thinking anything at all.

But you heard the familiar click of his lighter through the heaving, if quiet, crowd of masked strangers, and the intense scent of his tobacco smoke filled the bathroom in seconds.

"Go on then." He said loudly to your audience, breathing out even more smoke. "Do what you will, we haven't got all day for this."

It took a few seconds of hesitation from the group before the first person stepped forward, bridging the gap between you and the crowd of faceless people. Crouched in front of you for a few moments, their head slightly cocked as if they were admiring you, leaning in to touch your face.

Suddenly full of a foreign panic, you squeezed your eyes shut in a weak attempt to not look at the emptiness that the white mask provided the stranger, whimpering softly to yourself when you felt their touch on your cheek, circling back around your neck and their fingers pushing through the back of your hair.

They unbuckled your ring gag with quick, dexterous fingers, but pulled it from your teeth with a brute force that made you grunt and cough the second you were able to. Coughing more drool down your chin though that was hardly an issue to anyone at this point.

Though your feigned sense of freedom didn't last long before they were standing to their feet again, unbuttoning their jeans with the same quick precise movements. Just taking your gag out to make this entire thing easier for them, so they could have enjoyed it properly without trying to strain around the ring. Keeping a harsh grip on your hair, so your head would stay still, as they opened the crotch of their jeans and tucked their boxers down, allowing you to see their already hard length. 

You grit your teeth in pain when they pulled at your hair again, trying to coax your face closer to where they were stroking themselves, barely inches away from you. You could already smell the pre-cum beading from the tip of it, already turned on before they had even come into the bathroom. 

You wanted to glare at the stranger, challenge them or insult them now that your words had been given back to you, but the second your lips were even slightly parted, they pressed the head of their dick against your bottom lip. You couldn't pull back without hurting yourself, but didn't want to go forward either, and submit yourself to someone else. Especially one who didn't even have the courtesy to ask you first.

You didn't want this. Stuart could have given you anything, any humiliating task he wanted and you would have accepted it ten times over this. Being vulnerable for him was one thing, being vulnerable in front of ten other people was an entirely different thing. And you didn't want it. You were convinced that you didn't.

Though you felt a guilt, deep in the pit of your stomach as you felt all of this. You'd put Stuart through so much shit, put him through this exact situation actually. And he'd taken it with a stupid smile on his face, obedient to crawl after you like a little dog, as long as you told him that he was good, you were proud of him.

You loved him.

You wanted punishment, anything that would hurt, and this was how he was going to give it to you. And you could have walked away, very easily in fact. If you'd have told him that you didn't want this, he'd have the bathroom empty and you'd be out of the handcuffs in seconds.

But if you did that, he wouldn't do anything else. No punishments, no pleasures. Not even a weak friendship to hold onto. You wouldn't have anything, and he wanted you to know that.

You wanted something. You wanted him with you again, and you would have done anything for that to happen.

So you let this happen.

Your mouth opened obediently and you keened your head forward to take in the stranger's dick. No hesitation and no feigned feeling of gentleness. Their hips jutted forward sharply, and you almost groaned at the familiar weight on your tongue, your nose buried against a nest of unfamiliar black pubic hair. Both hands in your hair, they pushed themselves deep down your throat, and you gagged hard against their dick, convulsing and making the chain against the urinal pipe scrape together loudly. 

Swallowing hard around it, just trying to get used to the intrusion, struggling to breath even through your nose. 

More and more drool down your chin, coating their dick, at least made their constant thrusting in and out of your mouth a bit easier.

They were silent, which was absolutely fine by you since you didn't have a desire to please a stranger or hear bad dirty talk about just how good at sucking dick you might have been. You just moved in time with their desperate, erratic thrusts, your eyes squeezed shut and trying not to pay any sort of attention to any of this. Focusing on what you had to do, just to get this all over with.

No fake sort of affection from the stranger, thankfully, no pet names or soft touches in your hair. 

You preferred the more brutal actions, when they pushed so deep into your throat that you gagged, because then it didn't feel like that maybe someone else could have been doing this. 

You preferred knowing it was a stranger than forgetting it wasn't him.

You did half wonder if he was watching any of this though, somehow able to see through the hoard of people. You weren't able to see yourself, since another person from the crowd had joined the first one and they were jerking off next to your face, watching as you were brutally face fucked. 

You just hoped that maybe he was watching. Not getting off or anything, since you knew he wasn't a sadist, but just watching. Seeing how well you were doing.

So that maybe he might have been proud of you after this. 

Maybe he would have told you that he was proud of you, told you how well you did.

And maybe he would have let you kiss him again, let you hold him again. Let you sleep in his bed next to him instead of at the foot of it.

You liked to hope at the very least.

You choked, you gagged plenty, but you never pulled back and you never stopped.

You wouldn't let the tears beading in your eyes fall, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut to prevent that sort of thing happening. Nose was running, just like the drool down your chin, but the thrusting was getting erratic and far less precise than they had been.

You were getting close. But you knew they wouldn't cum. 

You knew what was going to happen next, and unsurprisingly that's exactly what did happen.

The first stranger pulled out of your mouth, and the one who had been watching took their place, pushing down your throat faster and getting up to the same erratic speed as the first. At least they'd had the courtesy to warm themselves up first. 

And then someone else would stand to the side and watch intently as your face got fucked, their sadistic pleasures played out right in front of them. You even had two admirers watching this time, which maybe was a compliment.

The attention was unrelenting, though you expected it. You would bring someone to the edge of climax and then they would pull out and someone new would take their place. Shoving themselves down your throat without even a 'please' or a 'thank you' first. And more people would gather round to watch you with every person that you serviced, enamoured by your stupid determination to keep going and not even try to stop for a break.

Constant. 

You'd sort of last count of how many people there were at one point, since they were all muddied together in your head. You were sure that you'd sucked off everyone at least once, and maybe someone had wanted a second go, but even then you weren't that certain about. 

And the longer you did it, the more you sort of didn't hate it.

You didn't like being vulnerable and you didn't like everyone's hands on you and them being able to do everything that they wanted. 

But all of it was fast and rough and everything that you liked in a blowjob recipient. There wasn't any simpered dirty talk or pretend feelings behind any of it, it was just hard and fast, not giving a shit if you could breath, not deterring if you spluttered or coughed or if there was drool down your chin and snot streaming from your nose.

It was like you were exclusively there to serve a purpose, serve them and do whatever it was they wanted you to do. And as long as you did that, they were happy with it.

It sort of reminded you of a darker time, some thirty years ago, when you would do this exact thing in gay clubs around London so that you could afford to eat for the week while you were studying. People generally approached your glory hole oral sex habits in a similar way, not caring about being gentle because they couldn't see your face and they were drunk at the end of the night and just needed a blowjob from a stranger.

It was weirdly relaxing, in a fucked up sort of way. Like you could just forget whatever it was you were thinking about before, and just let yourself get used. Let yourself be passed around between people, your head miles and miles away from the rest of you, though they didn't know that, of course.

You even felt your dick get a bit hard under your jeans.

But no-one cared about that. Even though this was about you, it was always about you, you were just there for people to use at their leisure. Like they were at a party and you were just a little addition to the fun that everyone was having. 

But you didn't really consider it. You couldn't really, not when your head was like this. It was easier to just not think about anything, and keep going until you had satisfied everyone. 

Eventually though, the last grip in your hair got too tight, pulling so hard that it ached your scalp beyond belief, and the dick in your mouth came deep down your throat, pulling away just about to get a few spurts out on your waiting tongue and lips.

Because of course this was how the chain of blowjobs was going to end. Not like Stuart to ever have any real originality, so he'd have to take all of his revenge porn ideas from you as well.

Someone else came on your face from the side of you, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut just to make sure there wasn't any chance of you accidentally going blind.

As soon as someone was finished jerking splats of spunk on your face, another stranger would take their place, much like the process before, one person causing a chain reaction with the others. It was sort of vile when you were looking back on it, your face coated in drool, snot and cum, dripping down your face in disgusting viscous strings and streaming down to your chest, staining your shirt. Two of the dickheads managed to get most of their cum in your hair, and if you were in your head at all, you would have cursed them out for being so vile.

But you said nothing, because you couldn't really say anything. Almost felt like your brain had been fucked out of your skull, and you could barely think, let alone speak. Just waiting for the strangers to be finished with you, so that you could be left alone to go back to your head in peace. 

Eventually, the last person squeezed out the last drops of cum onto your waiting face with a shallow grunt, and you were finished. 

You had served your purpose. And that's all you were here to really do.

The hoard of silent strangers finished up, making themselves decent. The one who had taken out your ring gag dropped it into your lap, without another word. Turning away from you and leaving the bathroom, one of them giving an appreciative nod to Stuart who was still sitting in his fold out chair, smoking a burning nub of a cigarette. 

And he said nothing. Just kept looked at you, still smoking.

And you said nothing. Because you couldn't think of anything to say.

He stubbed out the cigarette where he had left his ash before. Stood up, fumbling in his back pocket for something before he squat down in front of you. 

Out of his jean pocket, Stuart took out a key, and another smaller set of keys. He was silent as he unlocked the spreader bar on your ankles, throwing it to the side as soon as he was able to wrench it away. Still silent when he leaned up a bit more to unlock your handcuffs, letting them click open when the key was turned, and allowing your sore arms to drop to your sides. 

Finally able to see the cuts in your wrists from having them so tight. Dark red groves against your dark skin, throbbing from how much they hurt.

You looked up at him, and he tucked his keys away again. Waiting for him to say something to you.

"Remember how this feels." He said sternly, looking down on you as he stood to his feet again.

"And clean yourself up."

Before he left you alone in the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> calling back to my own give like a dickhead. this is my life now i suppose.
> 
> next 2doc update comes later this week, since the next actual update is gonna be an overwatch fic lol
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	4. I Wanna Be Your Toy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 5: restraint   
> third person, from paula's perspective

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" She said to him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her voice almost cooing it was so soft and gentle. "You can say no if you want to. Won’t hold it against you."

 

"I'm ready, babe. Promise." He said to her, smiling as he looked at her, like he was looking at a goddess who had him in the palm of her hand. Probably feeling that way too, in such a vulnerable position. He didn’t mind it though. "Like I would ever say no either. I want this as much as you do."

 

"And it doesn't hurt or anything? I could make the ropes a bit looser if ya want me to." She said to him, her face screwed up in concern as she tried to look at the position his body was forced into. If he was straining against his ropes, if they were digging into his skin at all. If it looked at all uncomfortable or worrying from her perspective.

 

"Babe, it's fine. I'm fine. Really. Wrist ones feel a bit loose for me actually." He said to her, chuckling to himself as he twisted the ropes on his wrists gradually, giving them a gentle tug, trying to glance back at the knots over his shoulder. Knowing if he pulled hard enough they would have come loose with ease, but also knowing that he had to allow some wiggle room as a just-in-case precaution. Though he preferred it so much more with an element of danger there for him to enjoy.

 

But that wasn't her style. Never was.

 

"You know the safe word, right?" She said to him, seemingly not remembering the ball gag and mask to her side would muffle out any and all of his speech. Wanting to affirm his safety to herself, more than anything.

 

"Benefits office." He said to her, his smile spreading into a contagious grin that she could help but catch herself. 

 

She leaned down to his level and kissed him, softly and sweetly, on the lips, before picking up the ball gag and waiting for his eager little mouth to obediently drop for her so that she could push the black rubber between his chipped teeth, and buckle the thick belt tightly around his head. 

 

As soon as the gag was in place, she took the mask, and with her free hand, stroked through his hair gently, slowly, relishing in the soft keening moans he let out from her affection, her gentle treatment on him before everything else started.

 

"Love you." She said to him.

 

Before unzipping the black latex mask and dragging it over his head, taking advantage of his sudden stillness to properly position it where the zip wouldn't catch in any of his hair and the subtle holes in the rubber would align with his nostrils so that he could breath properly. 

 

She kept her fussing gentle and quiet, so not to hurt or panic him, and she found the correct positioning within a few easy moments. Sliding the silver zip down the back of his head and sealing his lovely face away underneath the latex. She idly smoothed her fingers down his cheeks, under his chin, admiring him while she still had the time to. Smiling to herself at the way he would still silently respond against each of her touches, even if it was only subtle enough that she might have noticed it, she didn’t mind at all.

 

Masking him made it easier to treat him like this. It was easier to ignore his more human parts, and she didn't feel as bad if she was a little rougher than usual, because she couldn't see his face contort in pain.

 

This entire scene had been a long time coming, and they'd both waited more than enough to actually finally do it. 

 

They'd gotten serious about it too. Much more serious than any of their other scenes had been before.

 

Both of them had spent an entire afternoon emptying her spare bedroom for the purpose of this particular scene, so they could hide away some of their more shameful bedroom habits in a specific place, make everything so much easier and within reach. Effectively making the room their own personal sex dungeon, despite how ill equipped they might have been, it allowed room for improvement, at the very least.

 

Of course, she had expansive daydreams about more things she wanted to do with the room, now that she had it, and could easily do anything she liked with it. 

 

They could paint the walls, black for a more atmospheric look (though maybe white for a more clinical aspect), install some metal hooks and rings into the ceiling if they ever wanted to do a bit of suspension play. They could dedicate an entire wall to properly hang their classier sex toys and restraints from, maybe invest a pay cheque or two into a bit more professional bondage furniture, even get a cage that hadn't once been used to house a rowdy bull terrier that she'd bought from a neighbour for a tenner. They could even board up the windows, soundproof the walls, and put locks and padlocks on the door, to make it properly private and just for them to enjoy. No perverts or look-ins, no nosy neighbours, and no chance a rare houseguest may stumble upon their secret shame.

 

Just the idea of having that room all to herself excited her, regardless of what she might have done with it. And now that she actually had it, her mind ran with ideas for scenes they could do in the future together, now that they had the space for it. 

 

But she couldn't allow herself to be distracted for much longer. After all, she had to finish the scene of tonight first, before she could plan anymore, and she had someone waiting for her to start it as well.

 

There would be plenty of time for daydreaming afterwards. Right now she had work to do.

 

Before she could let her mind run away from her even more, Paula closed the hinged front of the metal dog cage, sliding the lock closed as well so there wouldn't have been a chance of it opening when she didn't want it to, and stood up to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Idly circling the cage in the middle of the room, her platforms making a heavy sound against the floorboards, she admired its contents and smirked to herself at her pet’s sudden stillness, despite how eager he had been before.

 

He was never that good with taking silence though.

 

Stuart always did look best when he was on his knees in front of her, something that was only proven more right each time she did it to him. Looked even better when he was like this, actually, even though she couldn't see his face.

 

Bound tightly with rough, untreated ropes (his choice, since he did have that nasty little masochistic streak that he couldn't quite kick), his skinny little body warped into an uncomfortable hands-and-knees, body-bent-in-two position, the only position that his new prison would allow him with its limited space. Paula had looped the ropes around his wrists behind his back and between the upper bars of the cage, just to keep him still when he was so prone to wriggle and squirm when he was like this. The same ropes circled his thighs and ankles, forcing kept his legs bent, and when he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position, the rough ropes  dug more into the peachy skin of his thighs. Beautiful.

 

She didn't know what it was in her that liked it so much, but she enjoyed watching the way that his body would shiver, even when she wasn't touching him yet.

 

Just from the quiet alone, that and the anticipation building up inside of him. Like he was waiting for something to happen, but it wasn't yet, and it was driving him mad.

 

That was probably his thought process anyway. Paula knew him very well, so well that she often times knew what he was thinking before he knew himself. Always managing to catch him by surprise in the best kind of way.

 

"You look very pretty like that, Stu." She said, still idly walking at the side of the cage, just admiring the way his body seemed to tense when he heard her voice. How his fists clenched a little, and his shaking stilled, just for a second. Looking he was really listening to her, even when she couldn't see his face.

 

She liked the level of devotion she always got from him. He never let her down on that front.

 

She eventually stopped circling him and stopped at the back of the cage, finally able to really appreciate that despite the position and his bondage not allowing for much, if any movement, it did do a wonderful job in highlighting his assets. The most important one being, of course, his ass, protruding slightly because of how his back was so elegantly arched, earning even more of her attention than the rest of him, when his head and face were covered and hidden away. 

 

A thick, heavy steel plug was nestled inside of him, keeping his hole stretched open for her, when she was ready. She couldn't really keep track of just how long it had been there, but she knew that he would have put up with it staying there for hours more, if that’s what she wanted. No relief and no attention, he would have tolerated it. He was just like that, at least with her.

 

"You put up with the plug well too, didn't you?" She asked, though she wasn't looking for a response.Just giving the cage a gentle kick with the tip of her boot, chuckling lightly to herself when he flinched, just making sure he was alert and paying attention to her. "Yeah...must feel so nicely stretched, eh? And so well lubed up too. You must be ready for it now." 

 

For the sake of the scene, Paula had crudely cut some of the bars in the back of the cage out for easier access earlier that afternoon, armed only with a pair of heavy duty wire cutters and a sanding block. And while the job had been roughly done and it didn't look nearly as nice as some of the ones she'd seen online, it served it's purpose, and allowed Paula to do whatever she wanted with her boy toy's ass while the rest of him was uncomfortably caged.

 

And she had plans. Plans that she hadn't bothered to mention to Stuart beforehand as well. She had wanted it to be a surprise, after all, and telling him would have spoiled it.

 

Though he was sure to find out after the scene was finished. She just hoped that it wouldn't freak him out or anything, especially in this sort of scene where he couldn't even properly safe-word.

 

Admittedly, the device that she had been stowing away in it's packaging for the last two weeks DID look a bit like a medieval torture device to the wrong person. So it was probably better that he hadn't seen it before the scene, actually, so it didn't spook him out of sex all together. 

 

Paula liked how it looked though, even if it did seem a bit intimidating to a novice in terms of kinky sex. A bit smaller than she had anticipated, yes, but black and sleek and professional looking, as well as being sturdy and relatively efficient during her practice runs (on herself. That had been a good night off). And it had been posted to her pre-assembled, so at least she wouldn't have had to worry about asking Stuart for DIY know how, or how to put together a bloody sex machine. Like he would have helped in anyway though, he was useless at anything like that.

 

Regardless, the toy that it had come with looked like the perfect size for him, at least in her opinion, since it had been heavenly for her, and she took no time at all in setting it all up behind the cage, the head of the plastic penis barely inches away from Stuart's still shaking body. 

 

It was almost amusing, in a sadistic sort of way, to think about how he had no idea what she was doing. Could barely hear her through the heavy latex, let alone see her.

 

It would be interesting to see his reaction, at least. 

 

She was interested to see what his reaction would be when the fuck machine was actually switched on though. 

 

Deciding that it was probably time to move forward, she pulled the plug out of him with barely any effort at all, didn't even need to warn him first since it slipped out so easily despite it's size and weight (though it did take him by surprise, judging from the long groan he let out when she eased it out of him.) 

 

The (frankly) excessive amount of lube she has used when she initially plugged him was still dripping out of his hole, in a disgustingly erotic fashion that only enticed her to kneel down to his level and stroke around his now thoroughly spread entrance. Listening to him whimper just feeling her touch and try to keen his hips back, trying to get the feeling of being so wonderfully full back after she had taken it from him.

 

He always did act like a little slut about those sort of things. Not like she cared though.

 

"Shhh, shh now, just warming you up before we get properly started, love." She said, her voice slow and soft as she slipped a teasing finger inside of him without any effort at all. "Don't get too excited, alright? Wouldn't want ya finishing before we even start."

 

Stuart let out a shaking little moan, but nodded his head that he understood her, trying to stop his desperately jutting hips and ignore the way that his dick was already hard and already leaking drips of pre-cum onto the bottom of the cage. 

 

Paula didn't mind though. She thought it was even a little cute that he was already so excited without knowing what was even going on. At least she knew her pet trusted her so much, always thought that she had the best intentions for him, even when the opposite was true.

 

Still in her kneeling position behind the cage, she moved the fuck machine closer towards her, fiddling with all the different complicated mechanisms and adjusting the outstretched arm of the device to be perfectly in line with Stuart, so there would be no reason to try strain his position anymore, just for the sake of convenience.

 

Using the same lube that she had used before, she popped the cap of it open and dripped more of it along Stuart's taint, keeping his ass spread with her free hand and effectively applying more lube to his hole, just so there wouldn't be any difficulty when she did turn the machine on.

 

But it was lovely to just listen to him for a few moments while she lubed him up, the shivering little moans, the whines, the long, drawn out groans telling her that he was desperate for more. Let alone everything that his body was saying, how his hips couldn't stay still and his dick twitched with arousal every time she touched him. She just smirked to herself while she worked, taking note of his sweet devotion and storing it in the back of her mind to reward him for later.

 

If she remembered. Which she might not have.

 

When she had finished, Paula knelt up a bit more comfortably, and brought the fuck machine closer to where her free hand was keeping Stuart spread open. Gripping the plastic dick attachment of the device firmly, she pressed the head of it inside of him, grinning when it eased in without any kind of effort at all, he was so well lubricated.

 

The dick was barely any bigger than the plug had been, barely anything compared to the toys she knew he usually took, but Stuart still groaned loudly when she pressed it inside him, tugging hard at his binds and clenching his toes and fists. Only getting louder with every inch she pressed inside of him, only shaking and trembling more.

 

She could only imagine what his reaction was going to be when it all started up.

 

When the plastic dick was a good two-thirds inside of him, she sat back for a moment, just admiring at how pent up he seemed to be, how still he suddenly was, despite how much he was moving and struggling before.

 

Maybe he did know what she was up to.

 

Regardless, Paula switched on the machine to it's lowest speed.

 

The device worked as a sort of rudimentary piston, thrusting back and forth slowly in a rhythmic fashion, speeding up little by little the more she turned the wheel on the remote control. It was basic, and something she could probably have seen made in a beginners woodwork workshop back in high school, but it was certainly getting the job done.

 

And Stuart was certainly sounding like he enjoyed it too. And it was somewhat entertaining to watch, for a bit, though it wasn't doing much for her in terms of a turn on.

 

Maybe because it didn't feel personal enough. 

 

It almost felt like she was watching someone else fuck her boyfriend, and while that wasn't an idea she would have turned out immediately, it still lacked the personality that she usually liked when it came to domination. 

 

But this was for Stuart, after all, not exactly for her. 

 

So she turned the device to a few notches off the top speed and got up to her feet. Thinking that she would leave him to it for a few minutes, ten at most, of course, and essentially let the machine do her job for her. Maybe watch a show she had missed, ring the bank like she had been meaning to, answer the work emails that SOMEONE couldn't stop sending her.

 

Her eyes lingering for a moment on the cage in the middle of the room for a few moments, wondering if it was cruel to leave him alone when he was this vulnerable, and she wouldn't have even been able to hear him safe word, but shook it off quickly, since Stuart never safe worded.

 

He'd be fine.  He probably wouldn't have even noticed that she was gone.

 

-

 

"You finish up without me then?"

 

Maybe she'd taken a bit longer than her initial ten minute idea. Only five, maybe ten minutes more though, give or take, barely a dent at all.

 

Getting a cup of tea to detox the system took a few minutes in itself, let alone trying to boot up her laptop and check her emails, to see if any progress with band bookings had been made at all (though nothing had been done, of course.) And stressing out about that had just made her want to put on the telly and see if anything good was one, but wading through the shit that was usually on at ten in the evening on a Saturday night had just filled her time as she drank her tea, and debated calling her mum up to ask for advice in how to deal with useless men.

 

Would have made for an interesting conversation, at the very least. One of the few good things Paula had done in her life was give her mother a daughter (albeit a few years late), which essentially gave the woman room to complain incessantly about just how useless men really were without insulting a son in the process.

 

The older she got, the more she understood where her mum had been coming from during her teenage years. 

 

Though she still did have a soft spot for one man, even though he was as useless as the rest of them. But it might have been because he was in a cage in her spare room, getting ruthlessly fucked by a machine that she had set up for him. 

 

Might have been unrelated though.

 

The piston like pounding of the fuck machine was relentless on him, Paula knew that much when she finally came back to check on how he was doing. 

 

Stuart couldn't even lift his head when he heard her, his cheek pressed against the bottom tray of the cage, opting for an exhausted groan against his gag instead, trying to stop the trembling that racked his body out of sheer fatigue alone. Lightly pulling at his ropes, though his hands were gradually starting to turn purple after being bent into such an awkward position for such a long time.

 

Poor baby.

 

But somehow it amused Paula even more, since she knew he could have easily pulled the ropes loose if he tried hard enough, if he was in that much pain. He was just that devoted to pleasing her, making her happy, that he wouldn't have even thought of trying to get comfortable, or do anything that she might not have liked.

 

It made her proud, in a weird sort of way.

 

She paced slowly around the cage, stopping behind it again and admiring the way that her pet's body couldn't stop shaking and shivering. So well fucked that he could barely hold himself together. He was trying to hold back his sounds, now that she was in the room again, but even with that effort, he couldn't help but moan feverishly with each thrust from the fuck machine. 

 

When she knelt down next to her device, properly looking in on his quivering body, she could see that his dick was still hard and red between his thighs, still dripping pre-cum almost constantly. But his stomach was covered in cum as well, making his skin glossy, dripping onto the tray bottom of the cage, collecting everything so not to make a mess of her carpet. 

 

He'd already cum before she could get back to him, and he was already hard too, after the attention from the fuck machine. 

 

She almost felt a slight amount of sympathy looking at him, propping her elbow up on her device and watching as it relentlessly fucked him, his hole stretched and hungry for more, regardless of what his brain might have been telling him. It must have hurt awfully, seeing as he'd cum once already. And she had left him after all, barely paid an ounce of attention to him for over half an hour. It was no wonder he was starting to get a little needy, desperate for climax again, perhaps.

 

"You look very pretty like this, Stu." Paula said softly, resting her head against her arm, her free hand daring to drift down to the controls of the fuck machine. Stroking a fingernail over the dial to turn up the speed. "Did you cum already, babe? Couldn't hold it in much longer, eh?"

 

Stuart just whimpered helplessly as a response, as if he seemed to know what was on her mind. Making her grin to herself.

 

"Well, that's alright, isn't it? You're only human, aren't you?"

 

Paula started to turn the dial on the remote, one off from the top speed, watching hungrily as Stuart's body reacted to the sudden change of pace. 

 

Toes clenching, his bound hands curling into fists, pulling on his ropes a bit harder (not hard enough to get loose though.) Letting out a long, delirious moan and pressing his face hard against the tray bottom of the cage. 

 

He couldn't take this. Not when he was in a raw state like this, when he must have been in pain already, and pushing him even further seemed so needlessly cruel.

 

But she knew him, better than she knew anyone else. And she knew that he loved to be pushed, and he loved the cruelty behind completely submitting himself to someone. Begged for more of it and pouted like a spoiled child if there was ever a session where he didn't get the awful attention that he craved so much. 

  
  


Still though, all of this wasn't doing that much for her, at least in terms of arousal. Maybe she'd felt the odd twinge underneath her shorts, but not much else.

 

But Stuart looked like he couldn't get enough of it, from how much his dick was leaking between his thighs, how flush his body was, how he was still keening back against the machine, desperate for more and more. 

 

She wanted to see what he might have looked like under his heavy latex mask. If his eyes were open, half lidded from exhaustion, or if they were squeezed tightly together because of how hard he was trying to not let go. She wanted to see how much drool was already pouring down his chin from his constant noises against the ball gag, how sweaty and red his skin might have been. 

 

He let out constant huffs through his nose, breathing hard out of exhaustion, so much so it might have worried anyone who wasn't used to him. The latex must have made breathing a little difficult, but he seemed to manage fine despite it being in the way. 

 

This was by no means his first time with that sort of thing, after all.

 

And maybe that might have been what was turning her on, with each minute that she watched him. She was morbidly fascinated in the way his body reacted to the constant pounding from the piston, how he seemed to still be hungry for more of it despite cumming once already. He must have been tired out of his mind at this point, but he didn't stop keening his hips back, didn't stop moaning out like a porn star against his gag, didn't stop pushing himself for her sake, assuming that she might have been watching.

 

Paula started to unbutton her shorts as she watched him, watched the machine thrust inside of him, and as she tugged down her gaff and gripped her own, slowly hardening dick, she turned up the speed of the fuck machine, until it was at it's peak.

 

She didn't even try to match the speed that the device was going, keeping to a somewhat lazy pace of her own. Watching almost voyeuristically as Stuart's body somehow clench up more, his nails digging into the meat of his palm as his fists clenched, his feet almost arching when his toes tensed up so much. Arching his back even more, so much that it almost looked worrying, though she thought there wasn't a way he could have looked better.

 

Maybe it was appealing to her more sadistic side when she looked at him like this, looked at how his body was responding to her brutality in such a lovely way, but she didn't think anyone could have disagreed that he looked perfect in that state.

 

If she had been at all bothered, she would have gone to the front of the cage again, and taken off his mask, taken his gag out, so she could see him react to all of this, listen to his unintelligible babbles when he was so, so close to climax (from the way his dick was throbbing, at least) and just relish in how perfectly helpless he was when she had him like this. 

 

But she was lazy, and she was feeling it too, resting her chin in her hand as she jerked herself off, barely with the intention of cumming either, just as something to do while she watched the almost hedonistic display. So she didn't, and she kept to watching from behind.

 

But eventually, it seemed to get too much for Stuart, and his body suddenly stilled in an almost shocked kind of way, despite how high strung he might have looked before. 

 

He was silent as he came with a messy spurt up his front again, and since she was in a somewhat sympathetic mood, she slowed the machine down, little by little, as he relished in a second orgasm for a few seconds longer than usual, a barely there whimper being the only sound he made when he was finished with his messy orgasm.

 

The extended piston-like arm of the fuck machine drew back as she turned it off, and she was able to ease it out of him without any sort of hassle, and nothing about his body even tried to fight back (and he was still silent too, no whimpers of pain or exhaustion or anything.)

 

She tucked herself away again and zipped up her shorts, before she crawled over lazily to the front of the cage, sliding the lock, and swinging the front panel of the cage open so she would be able to fuss over him properly without the bars of the cage being in the way.

 

The latex mask was off first, most importantly, and when she unzipped it and peeled it away, his hair was damp with sweat and moisture, and his chin was coated in a thin layer of drool. Eyes shut out of exhaustion, probably. She unbuckled the gag while she was at it too, and when she managed to coax it out of his mouth, there were hard bite marks in the rubber. 

 

Must have been a bit much for him to handle.

 

She let his head rest against the bottom of the cage peacefully as she moved to the side of it, untying the trailing ropes of his wrist restraints and letting them drop against his sweating body. She'd need to get him out of there before she could do the rest of them, and tackle the tight ankle to thigh binds she'd given him, and he seemed to be much too tired to even try and move anytime soon.

 

So she let him rest for a little while longer, sitting cross legged in front of him and stroking through his wet hair. Cooing soft words, telling him how well he had done, how proud she was of him, how he was such a good boy and he'd done so well.

 

It wasn't until about ten minutes later that she figured out that he'd gone to sleep, as soon as he'd cum, when he started to snore.

 

Bloody typical.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> g-d I love paula so much guys. my top tier wife. i'm publishing this in line for a ride at epcot cus I don't turn my brain off ever
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (please consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	5. He's A Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 8: monsters  
> second person, from 2D's perspective, phase 2
> 
> TW: Descriptions of self harm and self destructive behaviour. Unhealthy coping mechanisms and relationships. Descriptions of abuse. Please read with care.

Sometimes, you liked to pretend that you weren't a person. The entire idea of actually being a person with thoughts and feelings, choices that not only affected your life, but the lives of others around you was exhausting, and often times made you panic at the very idea of it, to the near point of breakdowns.

 

Your therapist had diagnosed you as a depressive with massive anxiety, on top of the autism and bipolar disorder. A mishmash of unbalanced chemicals all colliding in your brain that was never sated, no matter how much medication you took because of it. Even over medicating didn't help, you always seemed to feel like this.

 

Your head always felt as if it was a thousand miles away from you on the worst days. When your pills just seemed to tip you over the point of reality. 

 

Like you were just an entity floating above your body, unable to even inhabit it, staring down at your brain and body collapsing underneath you, not moving from your bedroom, unable to convince yourself of doing anything else. No matter how much you shouted or screamed.

 

Times like that always felt like everything you had ever worried or stressed about in your life was suddenly piling on top of your brain and drowning out anything you might have been thinking.

 

You smoked a lot more, ate a lot less. Your body deteriorated along with your head. Sometimes you could even smell rot on your clothes, feeling almost like your body was rotting away, though it was probably because you hadn't showered in weeks, or changed your clothes in days. 

 

How could you have, when you couldn't leave your room without your own brain telling you it was a mistake to even try and look after yourself. 

 

The voices got louder, your personal monsters harder to shake away. Shouting in your head. Screaming, words cascading in your brain and drowning out anything positive or sensible you might have thought. Making it impossible to even try to feel anything other than that crippling pain that would never go away. The reminders that would never leave you echoing every time you closed your eyes.

 

You weren't good enough, you would never be good enough. There wasn't even a point in trying when you failed everything you did so badly.

 

You let everyone down. No wonder no-one ever had any pride in you when all you did was destroy it, destroy any chances of anyone ever putting their faith in you by always messing up.

 

You hurt everyone you had ever been in contact with, and only continued to hurt even more, even if you tried to stop it.

 

You would never be able to stop it. Because just being you, and acting the way you did hurt people.

 

You wanted to feel that hurt yourself. 

 

Just so that no-one else would ever feel it. 

 

They would never have to worry about you, never have to feel that hurt. God, you deserved it more than anyone else, more than anyone ever would. You just wanted to feel it so fucking badly, so no-one else would have to suffer because of you

 

You thought that you deserved every moment of it. Every second of suffering was deserved.

 

Because why wouldn't it have been? Why would you have deserved a second of happiness when your brain was rotting and no-one would be able to help you?

 

Your body became a canvas for your own self loathing.

 

Slashes of red along your wrists, your thighs. Beading drops of red on white gashes. Burn marks from fire and lighters when you lost your razors. Stubbed out cigarettes on your skin when you were able to smoke without someone breathing down the back of your neck and making sure you didn't do anything stupid.

 

Pins shoved in your fingers, sewing needles jabbed deep, making you bleed out. 

 

And you scratched the scabs away too, which was possibly the worst part about all of this.

 

You scratched away at your own body's attempts to heal itself. Because you didn't deserve to heal, you just deserved to hurt, and keep hurting, to never stop hurting.

 

You didn't deserve good things and you didn't deserve good people. You didn't deserve the people who tried so hard to help you, and you pushed it all away, just hoping they would know not to keep trying, or else they'd get hurt themselves.

 

And you never wanted that from anyone.

 

You deserved the worst kinds of people and made a conscious effort to seek out those kinds of people just so you would know how much you deserved it. So maybe someone else would recognise and know that you deserved to hurt and suffer as much as you did.

 

You'd come close to it. Sometimes, and when you were able to promise something in return.

 

During the sex, you couldn't feel anything other than hurt. And it was never enough for you either. 

 

You pushily demanded hands around your neck, plastic pulled over your head so you were so close to death that it felt like a dream. You insisted that you deserved their sharp bite marks up your neck and scratches down your back, names you didn't recognise in the morning carved into your skin. And you weren't satisfied unless you were screaming in the pillow because of how much it hurt. 

 

And even then you just wanted more.

 

Funny how even the freakiest sorts of people tended to step away when you got to that point, scared from seeing you covered in blood and sweat and tears, and still asking for more of it. How they claimed to be okay with everything until someone was being hurt, and the line between sadomasochism and just plain sadism was blurred to the point they didn't know if they crossed it.

 

You struggled to find someone who understood the need for pain the way that you did.

 

Until you found him, that is. He always seemed to understand you.

 

He was always happy to make you suffer. And he was the one person who ever seemed to actually do it right. The way that you craved and longed for.

 

He just understood you. Understood just how much you needed it to hurt. 

 

And he never argued with you about it either. He never tried to reason with you, to tell you that you didn't deserve pain or suffering, that you deserved to be happy and safe and loved, like everyone else did. He never tried to play the part of your psychologist, and tell you that you needed help, because this wasn't healthy.

 

He never lied to you. Not like everyone else did.

 

He just smiled that sick, sadistic smirk that you knew oh so well, and ordered for you to get on your knees in front of him. Because he would make you hurt in a way no other person could.

 

And you loved it. Almost as much as you loved him.

 

He treated you just the way that you needed to be, and he never stopped, unlike everyone else. He never got disturbed or troubled when you asked for more, he would just give you more. 

 

And sometimes he would even do that before you asked for it. Gave you maybe a minute to get yourself together, to recuperate, get your breath and blood back, make sure that you didn't pass out from the pain before he was finished with you, and then he'd keep going. 

 

He was happy to brandish a knife, a whip, a paddle. He was happy to cut and lash and hit you when you needed it, when you asked for it enough times. 

 

Leaving deep bleeding lacerations on your back, up your thighs, never deep enough to scar, of course, but like you would have cared if they did. They left beautiful, thick dark scabs that even you didn't have the heart to scratch off just because you liked them so much. You covered them with bandages and stoked over them when you needed to be reminded, and it comforted you, in sort of a weird way.

 

It reminded you of what you did with him, reminded you that it was real, that he was real, even though sometimes he felt so perfect that it was a dream.

 

He barely asked for anything in return, only taking satisfaction in watching your body write underneath his. Taking in the image of your blood streaming down your skin, staining his fingertips, painting his dark skin even darker. Making him look like a twisted kind of angel above you, the only kind of angel you would ever be able to see.

 

Sometimes he took pictures of you. That was something you liked, even if it did feel so different from everything else you did together.

 

He would call you his 'art' and tell you that something so beautiful deserved to be preserved in that moment of beauty, forever. Often times you would be too exhausted to argue with him, and you would just lie on his bed, and allow him to do whatever he wanted with you. 

 

He would touch you, sometimes, but you preferred it when he didn't.

 

You preferred it when he would force you until your still bleeding back, hold your wrists down above your head and straddle your face. Forcing his dick down your throat when you were barely conscious, relishing in the way that you choked around him, and how your body twisted and shuddered as you tried to please him the way that he wanted, the way that you wanted.

 

He'd push in so deep that sometimes you couldn't breath, your throat would constrict to a wonderful tightness that would make him moan out, so beautifully, and then his hands would slip away from your wrists and to your head, forcing himself deeper, making you convulse and get so close to passing out, but pulling back the second before you lost it. 

 

Because he liked to see you like that. He liked watching your eyes roll into the back of your head and the colour drain from your face. He liked the way you looked at him when he did that, knowing he could end it all just by waiting long enough.

 

You liked knowing that. That he had so much power of you, and he knew exactly how to use it.

 

He would touch himself looking at you, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the flush on your face spreading all over your body, the spittle and throw up on your lips when he fucked your face hard enough. And then he'd cum over you, over your waiting mouth, your eyes, in your hair sometimes, when he felt like being particularly cruel.

 

And then he would stroke your cheek, wiping your own blood against your skin to mingle with the rest of the fluids, the cum and the tears streaked down your cheek. He would smile, and tell you how well you had done, how proud he was of you.

 

And everything would feel okay for a few moments. You would feel healthy, and loved, and taken care of. You would feel normal.

 

In those few seconds, the sacred moments that you would be vulnerable enough, you would  keen up closer to his touch, up on your knees, gripping onto his trouser leg, a shaky cracked tooth smile up at him. Seeing him as everything you needed to get better.

 

When you thought for a second that maybe you didn't deserve to be hurt anymore, and maybe he could fix you, mend you, put together all of the parts of you that had broken so many years ago, he would hit you. 

 

Enough to put you back into your place.

 

And that was when you would cry. Heavy, constantly falling, silent tears that you would hide from him.

 

You would feel everything he had done to you, the stinging lines on your back where he had whipped you, the coagulated blood on your thighs where you had let him cut you, where you had asked him to cut you deeper, hit you harder, fuck you faster, because you felt like you deserved it.

 

And you knew that you deserved it even more after you did all those things with him.

 

Every dark thought in your brain was confirmed, and you longed for the hurt and the pain and the suffering even more.

 

Because he was a monster, and so were you.

 

And you deserved each other, in only the most disgusting kinds of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you ever find yourself in an abusive or neglectful relationship, never hesitate to reach out and talk to someone or call a hotline and report it. you don't deserve to suffer, you will always deserve happiness and safety. 
> 
> take care 
> 
> ray x


	6. Scream For It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 15: roleplay  
> second person, from 2D's perspective

It had been a fairly normal night for you.

 

After a busy day of work at the keyboard ship and having to pick up a new prescription from the hospital. it was nearing nine in the evening, and you were alone in your flat. And with no plans on leaving anytime soon, since your friends all had plans of their own and you weren't quite sad enough to try and go out by yourself in the hopes of picking someone up. Plus you never drank with new pills in your system. Never worked out that well for you in the past, and it was hardly likely that it was going to change.

 

So instead of going out like any other mid-to-late twenty year old would have done, you had rented a good horror film from Blockbuster to fill up your time. An seventies thriller that you had never watched before but knew enough about to be interested. 

 

The girl (black hair, heavy eye make up, a tattoo of a mermaid on her neck, sort of your type but possibly too young for you) at the till had flirted with you casually while she rung up your purchase, telling you that you were watching her favourite film and maybe you could come round her place and watch it again some time. Slipped you her number on a Blockbuster Membership Card flyer, so you were already feeling pretty good about the evening before it'd had the chance to even properly start.

 

When you got home, you found that the previous renter of the video had forgotten to rewind the tape before they returned it, which was annoying but didn't bother you that badly, even though your player was going to take forever to rewind it all the way, since it was probably as old as you were.

 

You slid the tape into your VHS player and set the machine on automatic rewind, before crossing your flat and into the tiny side kitchen. You dug in one of the cupboards to find the packet of slightly expired microwave popcorn that you'd found the other day and put it in for around five minutes, just to make sure that every kernel would have popped properly and you wouldn't have half popped shit at the bottom of the bag because you always hated the half popped kernels.

 

You leaned against the tiny kitchen counter, idly watching as the bag spun slowly in the microwave, your mind wandering away from you a bit, and considering maybe ringing the girl from Blockbusters, just to get something interesting out of the evening. 

 

But before you could pick up the phone and dial her number, it started ringing as your hand was barely hovering over it.

 

You looked at it for a second or two, wondering if maybe you'd given the girl your number first and just forgotten about it. Though that was probably pretty unlikely since you knew you already had hers. No point in exchanging numbers because of a cheeky flirt. Shaking that thought from your head, you picked up the phone and pressed the 'Accept Call' button.

 

"Hello?" You said politely into the receiver.

 

"Hello."

 

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't one that you recognised at all, and it definitely didn't belong to the Blockbuster girl. It was deep and smooth, and even had a slight American accent, which was rare considering you were in the middle of Essex, but not entirely impossible. You frowned slightly to yourself, not from anger or annoyance, just slight confusion.

 

"Er. Can I help you?" You asked, your tone somewhat cautious but still using your polite over-the-phone voice, because maybe you were talking to a telemarketer or something, even though it was nearly nine in the evening.

 

"Who is this?" The voice replied, using a similar polite tone that you used. Clearly not a telemarketer.

 

"Well, who are you trying to reach, and maybe I can help you out." You said, somewhat bemused and smiling slightly to yourself, leaning against the counter. Must have been a wrong number or something. 

 

"What number is this?" Though there wasn't really any uncertainty from their voice. If anything, they just seemed more sure of themselves.

 

"What number are you trying to reach?" 

 

"I don't know." 

 

"Look, I think you have the wrong number, mate." You laughed softly, looking back over at your microwave, staring at the ticking countdown. The bag inside was popping, but it still needed another few minutes before it was ready.

 

"Do I?" The voice asked, almost as if they were intrigued.

 

"Don't worry, it happens all the time. Take it easy, yeah?"

 

You hung up and set the phone back into it's charging dock. Suddenly deciding against calling the girl from Blockbuster and continuing to just stare at the spinning, popping popcorn until it was ready, and then go watch your film.

 

Maybe you would have had a good time if you had tried to go out, but you wouldn't have had that weird conversation. That was going to be something worth talking about with your coworkers in the morning, at the very least.

 

The phone started ringing again, and you looked over at it with an almost accusing look.

 

You'd never gotten more than one telephone call in an entire night, let alone within five minutes. Even your heavily doting mother usually gave you at least an hour between each telephone call. But you were curious enough that you couldn't just let it go to voicemail, and your typical British upbringing meant that you couldn't possibly ignore it and seem rude to whoever was calling.

 

You picked it up again.

 

"Hello." You said down the line, pacing idly between the kitchen and the living room. The tape had stopped rewinding but the flickering black and white lines on your screen weren't fully capturing your attention.

 

"I'm sorry. I guess I dialled the wrong number." 

 

It was the voice from before again. Maybe they were trying to sell you something but they definitely weren't a telemarketer.

 

"So why did you dial it again?" You were still somewhat amused by the stranger's motivation though. Something to admire, at the very least. And something of slight interest that would make for a mildly entertaining story, maybe. 

 

"To apologise." They replied earnestly, and you chuckled softly at their response.

 

"You're forgiven, alright, mate? Bye."

 

You pulled the phone away from your ear for maybe a second, your thumb hovering over the 'End Call' button, before you heard the voice again.

 

"Wait, wait, don't hang up yet." They said insistently and you quickly pressed your ear against the phone again.

 

"What?" You frowned slightly to yourself.

 

"I just want to talk to you for a second." They said, as earnest as before, and you felt yourself smirk, leaning against your kitchen counter again, facing the long window that spanned most of your kitchen wall and looked out onto the empty looking street of your corner of Essex. The street lamps had been flickering for a while, and no-one had come out to fix it yet. Really spoke volumes about what kind of neighbourhood it was.

 

"You know that they have numbers for that. Like lonely hearts hotlines or shit like that." You said, jumping up slightly to sit on your counter, legs slightly dangling over the side.

 

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" The voice asked, and you couldn't help but chuckle slightly, almost taking their insistence to keep talking to you as a compliment.

 

"Who is this?"

 

"How about you tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

 

"I don't think so, mate." You replied, before the microwave started to beep, telling you to that your popcorn was ready and waiting for you to take out. You slipped off the counter and opened the microwave door, wafting the barely there grey smoke away and waiting for the constant popping to calm down a little.

 

"What's that noise?" They asked curiously, since they must have heard the beeping of your microwave through the receiver.

 

"Popcorn." You balanced your phone against your cheek and shoulder as you pulled the bag open, hissing slightly when the stream was too hot on your fingers. Holding it in one hand and sitting back on the counter. "Microwave just finished cooking it." 

 

"Oh. I only eat popcorn at the movies."

 

"Well, I am getting ready to watch a video, actually." You said as you dug your hand into the still slightly smoky bag, picking out the cooler kernels and snacking on them while you talked. Maybe impolite, but so was calling a stranger back after they hung up on you once before, so like you cared.

 

"Really? What?" The voice kept pushing. Must have been interested in your film choices. Making you smirk as you ate your expired popcorn.

 

"A scary movie." You shrugged. "Why?"

 

"Do you like scary movies?"

 

"Mmhmm." You nodded to yourself, talking with your mouth full. "Love 'em."

 

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

 

The voice dipped slightly, into a new tone that you didn't really mind the sound of. The stranger over the phone was pretty obviously flirting with you at this point, but you took it as a compliment, and it was, at the very least, making your evening that much more interesting. And you never took a flirtatious comment negatively either.

 

"Mm. I dunno." You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. "Got lots."

 

"You have to have a favourite. Come on, which one scares you the most?"

 

"Er." You paused, setting down the bag on the counter and itching the back of your neck. "Dawn of the Dead. They’re remaking it next year and I just know they’re gonna botch it up." You jumped down from your counter. "What's yours?"

 

"Have a guess."

 

"Hm...Nightmare on Elm Street." You offered, smiling to yourself at your obviously genius suggestion.

 

"Oh yeah. I liked that one. It was scary."

 

"Mm, maybe the first one was, but the rest were shit. Maybe the second one was decent but only if you got a fetish for homoeroticism in your horror movies."

 

The voice chuckled softly at your slight tangent, before the were silent for a second too long, long enough for you to wonder if they were still there, before they spoke up again.

 

"Got a boyfriend then?"

 

"Why?" You laughed quiety to yourself, feeling your face flush just a little bit. "You wanna go out with me?"

 

"Maybe." The voice responded, sounding somewhat smug. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

 

"No." You replied, smiling to yourself and leaning with your back to the kitchen window.

 

"You know, you never told me your name."

 

"Why do you want to know my name." You said, smiling, idly twirling a lock of your hair around your finger, half interested in the voice's supposed proposition. 

 

"Because I wanna know who I'm looking at."

 

Almost the second the voice spoke, you could feel your blood run ice cold and your heart pound hard underneath your rib cage. Your body felt stiff as you looked over your shoulder and outside of the kitchen window, suddenly anxious of whatever might be lurking in the darkness outside.

 

"W-What did you say?" You asked, your voice trembling as you tried to will yourself to move to the kitchen window, shut the blinds and hide away any chance of someone staring in at you.

 

"I wanna know who I'm talking to." They replied quickly, their tone almost humorous, making fun of you while still playing coy. 

 

"No, that's not what you said." You insisted, frowning to yourself and gripping the phone tighter in your fist.

 

Phone still in hand and still hearing the voice talk to you through the speaker, you went over to the kitchen window, leaning over the metal sink and trying to find anyone that might have been able to look in on you. There was a phone box on the street, but no occupant, and even if there was, there was no chance of them being able to see you down from street level. Suddenly all the lights through the windows of the flat block on the other side of the street were making you nervous, and you quickly pulled the cord to let the blind over the window fall down. Just to give you some kind of peace of mind, even if the stranger over the phone was obviously a prank caller and was trying to get under your skin. 

 

"Look, I've got to go." You said roughly, not even trying to mask the harshness in your voice.

 

"Wait, I thought we were gonna go out?" The voice asked, their tone almost hurt as they sensed the sudden accusation in your own voice. 

 

"No, I don't think so." You snapped, crossing the kitchen and into the living room.

 

"Don't hang up on me!" You could hear the voice shout at you even with the phone away from your ear, so you quickly pressed the end call button and put the phone back into the charging dock.

 

You paced back quickly into the kitchen, your body full of nervous energy, peeking between the blind slats just to see if there was any sort of a change in the street outside. Nothing so far, and no weirdos on the other side of the street looking at your flat with a pair of binoculars either.

 

But still your heart couldn't stop racing and even your hands were shaking as you pushed them through your hair, trying to regulate your slightly too fast breathing. Trying to forget about the conversation that you had just had, you picked up your bag of cooled down popcorn and turning to the flickering tv screen, though your appetite for horror movies had gone down substantially.

 

The phone started ringing again, and when you jumped from the sound of it, you dropped the bag, promptly emptying its contents onto your kitchen floor.

 

"Shit." You mumbled to yourself, stepping over the mess and picking up the phone again. Substantially more pissed off than frightened, you accepted the call with shaking fingers, which might have been a major mistake on your part.

 

"What?" You barked down the line, still staring at your window, despite the blind being drawn.

 

"I told you not to hang up on me." The voice again, their tone not so light hearted as it had been before. Deeper, threatening, like it was a warning in itself. 

 

"What do you want?"

 

"To talk."

 

"Well, dial someone else, okay?!" You were nearly shouting down the receiver, reasonably angry in your mind.

 

"You didn't seem to have a problem with talking to me before." The voice taunted at you, and you could feel your teeth grit together in anger as your fist around the phone tightened. 

 

"Listen, you creepy asshole-"

 

"No, you listen, you little bitch! You hang up on me again, I'll rip your insides out where everyone can see 'em. You understand?" Their threat promptly shut you up, and your mouth snapped shut like a gaping fish. After a few seconds of silence (from them waiting for you, from you being too scared to even try and respond), they let out a low, menacing laugh that affected you far more than anything they had said. "Yeah. I think you do."

 

"Is this fucking funny to you, you creep?" You snapped, though much more quietly out of fright, at your receiver. "This some kind of joke to you?”

 

"I see it as more of a game, really. Think you can handle that?" The voice paused again. "Your hair's a real pretty colour, you know. I wonder if I could make your face go that shade of blue."

 

They could still see you. Even with the blind shut.

 

All you could do was whimper softly to yourself, trying to hold yourself together as you slid down to the kitchen floor, clutching at your knees like it was the only way of grounding you. Biting down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Trying to ignore the flush on your face that was already spreading down your neck, your sweaty palms and how much your hands were shaking. How much you were starting to ache already.

 

"Listen. I'm two seconds away from calling the police so just...just fuck off before you get into serious trouble, okay?" You mumbled, trying to sound determined or intimidating in the slightest but probably failing when even you could hear the shaking in your voice.

 

"You know they wouldn't listen to you." The voice laughed again. "I know your neighbourhood, been watching it for a while. No-one would even notice if I left your bleeding body hanging from a tree."

 

"What do you want?" You whimpered again, trying to cover your mouth and not let any other kind of sounds out. Making sure that they didn't hear your shaking breathing, the way you were panting.

 

"To see what your insides look like."

 

As you listened to their final threat, you couldn't help but let a long, low moan slip out from the back of your throat, tipping your head back against the kitchen counter. Trying to aim the receiver away from you, as you let out a stuttered breath, so the stranger couldn't hear the hedonistic sounds you were making in response to all the horrible things they had been saying to you. Not wanting them to know that you thought they were, in fact, the exact opposite of horrible.

 

You just hoped they couldn’t still see you, now you were on the floor. Your dick was already hard underneath your jeans, had only been aching more and more as they spoke just minutes before. Inevitable, really, but you still felt almost ashamed about it. 

 

With your free hand, you reached down to idly stroke the hem of your jeans, pressing the phone back against your ear.

 

"Oh my god.” The voice said, which made you stop stroking for just a second. “Oh my fucking god, are you getting off to this? You fucking pervert." 

 

"No!" You said quickly (almost too quickly), sitting up on the floor and pulling your hand away from the hem of your jeans.Your toes curled under your socks and your face flushed dark red from shame as you gripped your phone tighter. Letting out a shaky little breath and swallowing hard, trying to hide your obvious arousal. "I mean, no, how could you even think that? 'Course I-I'm not-"

 

"Oh?" The voice snapped harshly, cutting you off. "So you're not touching yourself thinking about how I'm going to gut you like a fish and then fuck the bloody hole I leave behind." 

 

As they spoke, the voice over the phone sank into a deeper, even almost sexy, growl, shaking something deep inside you and making your loins burn even more. 

 

You started to unbutton your jeans. 

 

"Your guts would feel so good on my cock. All the blood just pouring out of you would feel even better though." The voice continued, chuckling darkly to themselves as they spoke, their words alone painting gory colourful images in your mind and only made you stroke yourself through the denim, already feeling how hard you were. And it was almost like they knew how this was affecting you, just from how explicit their already graphic threats had gotten.

 

Not like you were complaining though. 

 

"And after that, when someone finds you, they'll find my cum in your body, baby, and it'll be fucking worth it." They let out a slightly rasped sigh through the receiver, that you could instantly recognize as arousal. Seemed that you weren't the only one getting off. "Like I'd get caught though. No-one's gonna care if a gore junkie slut like you gets killed, will they?"

 

"No...no-one's gonna care." You said softly into your own receiver, barely keeping a moan back before you tucked your jeans down around your knees and fondled yourself through your boxers, dick already practically tenting the thin fabric.

 

"Atta boy." The voice purred, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself from the praise of a stranger. Just waiting for more from them as you touched yourself. "How about I fuck you in a pool of your own blood then, huh? I could cut you up, make you bleed so, so pretty for me." The voice got gruffer as they kept speaking, only encouraging you even more. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I tortured you a little first."

 

"Yes, yes, I-I'd like that." You whined through the phone, boxers finally down with your jeans, slowly jerking yourself off as you kept listening to them growl at you. "Fuck, yes, I'd really like that."

 

"Ohh, that's the stuff, huh?" They asked, laughing roughly at you and your inability to be coy for even a second. "That get you goin'? Well, how about if I carve my name into your body first? I have a knife with your name on it, ya know. Big and long and perfect for you. Just itchin' for it to have your blood on it." Sighing to themselves again. "Red on silver, yeah? Only thing better would be seeing that red on your skin. Pretty pale skin. I've seen you enough times that I imagine what your body would look like cut up underneath me. How you'd look like twitching in pain. Bet you'd look beautiful like that."

 

You pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth as you listened to them, moaning softly as they described their grisly vision to you. Head tipping back again. Trying to ignore how your dick twitched with everything they said and how your slit was already dripping pearly drops of pre-cum, without you even touching it that much.

 

Though you were too far gone to care, obviously.

 

"I wanna taste it." The voice continued, as rasped as before. "Bet it would taste so, so fucking sweet, baby. Like fucking honey or some shit." Pausing for a second just to groan away from the phone receiver, but not far enough that you didn't hear it. "Fuck, I wanna taste your blood and watch the life drain from your eyes while I fuck you." 

 

Another long groan from them only furthered your almost painful arousal. You wanted to hear more and more of it as you worked yourself over, still keeping your pace slow though. But maybe you were doing it in time with each other and you didn't even know it. The image was almost romantic. 

 

All of this was starting to feel sort of romantic, in a twisted kind of way.

 

"Maybe…” The continued, voice stuttering a little more than it was before. “Fuck, maybe I'll slit your throat, and watch you choke on your own blood as you cum with my cock stuffed inside of you."

 

Just imagining his last threat (taunt? incredibly gory excuse of dirty talk?) made you moan so loudly into the receiver that you couldn't hold it back or quiet it down even a little. Gripping your phone tight with shaking hands, you were getting closer and closer to your own climax already. 

 

But you didn't want it to stop. You didn't want to stop hearing how deliciously awful all of these threats were. You wanted to keep hearing them forever if you could.

 

Maybe that should have worried you a little, that you were getting off so quickly to such gruesome dirty talk, but you were far, far past the point of caring about your sudden gore fetish at this point. Writing it off as just another thing to push into the back of your mind and feel guilty about on the High Holy Days.

 

The voice laughed again, clearly at your expense, though it was breathier. More worn out. More turned on, just like you were.

"Oh, you really liked that one, didn't you, ya little psycho?" They taunted, and you couldn't help but nod to yourself, pretending that they could see you. Could watch you doing all of this. "Say, does everyone else know you're a disgusting freak who gets off to this shit, or is it just me, huh?"

 

"J-Just you." You managed to stutter out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to lose it. Even slowing down the jerks of your wrist in the vein hopes that you could put off the orgasm for a little longer, despite how close you already felt. So they’d have to keep talking. "I've never told any...anyone else. Always got scared to...to admit I like it."

 

"Aw. Ya know, that almost makes me feel special." The voice was almost bordering the line of affectionate as they spoke, though their words thick and syrupy and fake like too sweet artificial honey, and the lies made you shudder with delight. "Maybe I won't kill you so quickly then. Maybe I could just keep you for a little while, in my basement perhaps? Tie you up, gag you so you couldn’t scream and cut your pretty little body up so nicely. Keep you like a little pet before I kill you. How's that sound?"

 

Your only attempt of a response came out as a whimper, muffled by your palm against your mouth again, eyes squeezed shut. Not wanting to admit to yourself just how good that all sounded, just how much you wanted all of it so badly. 

 

“Tell me you want it.” The voice growled at you when the phone was against your ear again, and you could only let out more whimpers. It was almost as if they had looked right into your head, finding your worst sources of shame and forced you to look at it. Forcing you to admit just how awful you were. 

 

“I-I want it.” You mumbled softly, your voice shaking as you spoke into the receiver and gripped yourself even tighter. Feeling pre-cum drip down your fingers as you were barely seconds away from an orgasm. “I want it so fucking bad.”

 

"You look so good under me." The voice continued, satisfied with your excuses of begging. "Cut up, tied up. My hands around your throat so your face is as blue as your hair. I wanna see you take your last breath when I cum in that pretty little ass of your's. That's the last thing you'd feel." Letting out a breathy chuckle in between their own panting and their sighs of absolute pleasure. You could almost imagine them touching themselves the same way that you were. 

 

All you could do was nod along, whimpering and whining into the receiver and didn't stop the jerks of your wrist for even a second. Keeping it slow enough that you could listen to every word that the said though. 

 

"Wanna see you vivisected. Wanna fuckin' see your eyes water everytime I take out one of your organs. Wanna hold 'em right in front of your face."

 

"Your white skin painted with red every time I touch you. You wouldn't feel a thing because you wouldn't be able to stop watching it."

 

"I want to devour you. I want to eat your heart in front of your eyes, and I want that to be the last thing you see. My face covered in your blood."

 

"I want that so bad."

 

You weren't quite sure why the last part of their blood-lust fuelled monologue was the thing to push you over your edge, but that's was when you lost it.

 

Climax hit you hard, forcing a choked moan out of you and making you drop the phone to the floor with a loud plastic on plastic clatter, as you tried to hold yourself together when you were shaking so much. Spurts of cum coated your fingers and stained the front of your shirt when your position was bent like this. Though you were too busy trying to catch your breath back and stop yourself from nearly hyperventilating to care too much about stains on your shirt and a sudden stickiness on your skin.

 

You let out a long, well needed exhale, your head tipping back against the cupboard door and your eyes sliding shut. Allowing yourself to breath for just a few moments, not having to think about what you just wanked off to. Not having to think that maybe you should have felt bad about it, or the inevitable twisting coil of shame that was sure to come the second you stopped feeling so good after such a very well deserved orgasm. 

 

You picked up the phone again, and smiled to yourself when the line hadn't been disconnected, and pressed it against your ear again.

 

"Who's the freak now, eh?" You teased, smirking to yourself and wiping your hands down your shirt.

 

"Fuck off, I was just facilitating your fetishes, you weirdo."

 

There was humour to Murdoc's voice as he finally spoke with his regular, gruff-yet-smooth voice that immediately comforted you the second you heard it. An undeniable softness was there too, something he was never good at hiding from you, and your smirk fell into a slight smile.

 

"Your Ghostface was good though. Thought it was the real thing a few times actually."

 

"Maybe if I'm in a good enough mood, I'll see if I can get a costume after I'm done with all these fuckin' meetings. Try and play out a few of those fantasies for real, eh?"

 

"Mm, which ones?" You said with a tired laugh, pressing yourself into the space where two of the cupboards met as a pseudo corner. "The 'fucking me in a pool of my own blood' one or 'keeping me as a pet in your basement' one? Because I could go along with either one of those options, to be honest with you."

 

"Fucking hell, Stu, when did you become such a dirty little psycho?" He asked with his characteristic laugh that made your heart swell with love and affection. You just chuckled along with him, resting your head against the cupboard door. "Did kind of like that though. Bit different but...I dunno. Could get into it maybe."

 

"I bet you would. You just trying to hide your freaky side from me in case you like it."

 

"Yeah yeah, we'll see when I get home alright."

 

There was silence between the two of you, and you let out a little sigh, looking over at the mess on the kitchen floor.

 

"I miss you." You mumbled softly, prodding at a pile of popcorn with your toe. "Girl in Blockbuster flirted with me when I went to get a video. Dunno why but I couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

 

"What did you get that reminded you so much of me then?" He asked, a slight teasing edge to his voice that made you feel special, made you smile.

 

"A Clockwork Orange." Your smile quickly morphing into a grin the second he started groaning. "Sorry, sorry! I know it's cheesy. Just made me think of you, I suppose."

 

"Should I rent a copy of Evil Dead then? Just so we can both enjoy the first films our partners got off to at the sweet and tender ages of thirteen."

 

All you could do was laugh at the absurdity of his statement, leaning forward and idly picking at the least damaged kernels of popcorn from the floor, popping them into your mouth because you didn't get the chance at having many before you dropped them.

 

"I do miss you though." You said again, resting your head in your hands. 

 

"I miss you too, bluebird." He responded, a soft warmth to his voice that settled every one of your still flying nerves from before. "But I won't be away much longer. Few more days and then I'll see you again."

 

"Counting the hours." You smiled, hoping that somehow he could see it.

 

"Counting the minutes." He added cheekily, making you laugh again.

 

"Love you, Muds."

 

"Love you too, Stuart."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't even realise i was publishing this on friday the 13th. weirdly apt even tho it's the wrong horror franchise lmao 
> 
> this is the real dream tbh. you know ur in love when ur bf sends you death threats and still makes u nut <3
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	7. Moon Prison Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 16: sex work
> 
> third person, from murdoc's perspective, alternative universe, part one

It had been a mistake to go on such an intense night out with the lads after work last night, that was the first thing that came to Murdoc's head the second his eyes were open, and his brain started to clench in his head aggressively. Damning him for his excessive consumption of dark rum, indecently brewed beer and too strong vodka as a celebration of another week over and the start of a fun filled weekend.

And of course his penchant for drinking far too much had fucked up his chances of having a weekend to begin with, let alone one fun filled.

He let out a softly muttered curse to himself and pulled the heavy black duvet over his head, squeezing his eyes shut in a poor attempt to get back to sleep, and trying to block out the light that was streaming through his blinds and over his bed. 

Classic old England, no sunshine when it was actually wanted, but plenty when a man was trying to get over the worst hangover he'd had since last week's overly excessive binge.

In a state like this, there was nothing that Murdoc wanted more than to go back to sleep for a few more hours (at least until noon) and wake up feeling at least fifty percent better. Hopefully met with a cup of strong tea and a full English cooked the way he liked it, and a good looking lad who wanted nothing more than for a nearly forty year old social worker to fuck him into next weekend. 

But neither of those hopes were very likely, since Russel didn't like to let in strangers, Del couldn’t eat pork and banned it from the house, he hadn't bought any decent food for the weekend and he wasn't in the mood to try and nick anything from the Americans with whom he shared the house with. And it was unlikely he was going to get back to sleep either, when he was already wide awake from the sun in his eyes. 

So he instead settled on getting out of bed (regrettably), rooting in his chest of drawers for a halfway decent pair of joggers and the only clean shirt on his floor, and tiredly walking downstairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to ignore just how much his head was killing him. 

Noodle, Russel and Del's pre-teen daughter and the house's resident sweetheart and smart ass, was the only one in the living room-cum-kitchen area when he walked downstairs, sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, happily staring at the television as she watched a cartoon that Murdoc didn't know the name of. 

She glanced over her shoulder quickly as soon as she heard the creak of the stairs behind her, and then back at her telly, somewhat relieved that she wasn't the only one in the house anymore. Giving a little wave backwards towards Murdoc as he walked across the living room and to the kitchen, in an effort to find something decent to eat and a cure for his hangover. 

"Good morning, uncle!" She said brightly, though she wasn't distracted from her show. 

“Alright, killer." Murdoc couldn't in anyway match her enthusiasm, but he did his best to not sound so gruff for her. "Where's Russ this morning then, eh? Not like him t'leave you by yourself."

"He and Papa had to go to a meeting or something." She said, throwing up a piece of cereal and moving about the sofa to catch it in her mouth. "They said to make sure you weren't dead later, and that there's eggs in the fridge if y'want 'em." Catching another piece of cereal. 

"Good lad." Murdoc mumbled to himself with a grin, and immediately going to the fridge to find the promised eggs, already pre-seasoned and pre-drenched with enough hot sauce to his liking. He was somewhat touched that Russel already knew him that well. 

As he ate from the leftover bowl, he turned on the half full kettle and grabbed a plain mug from the draining board, leaning against the counter and finishing off his leftover meal, feeling a least a little bit better than he had before.

"Dad said you drank a lot last night." The adverts on the telly were playing now, so Noodle leaned over the back of the sofa, grinning to herself. "Are you hungover? I bet you're hungover."

"Yes, I'm hungover, Noodle." He said, voice slightly louder, setting down his finished bowl in the sink and wringing his hands out above his head in a well needed stretch. "Y'know where your dad's hide the tablets, by any chance? Got the worst headache." The steaming kettle clicking off caught his attention from feeling sorry for himself though, and he went to his cupboard for his supplies (tea bags, sugar, long life semi-skimmed milk, the crucial ingredients for the perfect cuppa in his opinion.)

"Nah, not a clue." She replied, resting her chin against the sofa cushions and watching curiously as Murdoc made his tea. "You wouldn't need them if you hadn't drunk last night though, would you?"

"Oh, my dear, you have a world of drinking that you have yet to explore." He smirked to himself as he took a testing sip from the steaming mug. Perfect the first time, of course. With a satisfied sigh, he walked back across the kitchen to sit on the sofa with Noodle, who had her eyes back on the telly again, since the adverts were over. "What're we watching today then?"

"Sailor Moon reruns." She said, burying her hand in the cereal box in her lap for a handful. Said cereal being the overly sugary kind that he know her dad's saved for special occasions and wouldn't have approved of her snacking on while they were away. "Waiting for Powerpuff Girls to come on."

"Right, of course." Murdoc replied, sipping at his tea and watching the brightly coloured cartoon over the rim of his mug. He didn't really know what was going on, but at least Noodle seemed entertained. "Is there a reason I shouldn't tell your dads that you're eating a box of Cocoa Pops for breakfast?"

"I won't tell 'em that you left one of your videos with the naked boys on the front downstairs last week." She said, her voice deadpan and her eyes still locked on the screen, making Murdoc splutter out a mouthful of tea at how nonchalantly she delivered her threat. 

Russel and Del had clearly taught her very well.

He dried his chin on the sleeve of his jumper and nodded, the both of them in silent agreement, before he reached over for a handful of Cocoa Pops to snack on himself.

 

-

 

The two of the them spent the rest of the morning (and the afternoon, and a few hours into the evening) watching episode after episode of Noodle's cartoons and snacking on reheated leftovers from the fridge when the adverts were on. Naturally justifying it due to the fact it was a Saturday, Murdoc didn't have work, Noodle didn't have any homework she had to do (she claimed, though he assumed that she might have been lying) and they had nothing better to do.

Surprisingly, by the end of their binge, Murdoc's knowledge of cartoon heroines had gone up substantially, even though he still didn't really get any of the jokes that Noodle laughed at. But that didn't matter, because he didn't really need to know to be entertained.

As the sun was beginning to set, Noodle went upstairs to practice her guitar playing (one of the few things she had an insatiable drive to improve for, and as a result, was actually very good at) and Murdoc cleared away the empty plates and cereal boxes from the sofa in the living room, in an effort to sort the place out a bit so Russel and Del wouldn't have a mess to deal with when they got home from their meeting.

As soon as he was done though, he retired back up to his room with a can of beer (the one thing he always seemed to be stocked up on, funnily enough) for a bit of mindless internet scrolling before his housemates came home and they all ordered delivery food for dinner, as par the typical British Saturday tradition. 

He sat down at his desk, the chair creaking underneath his weight and cracking open his can. Slowly sipping from it as he booted up his desktop, an honest to god dinosaur of a machine that took a lot of tender love and care to actually run properly, though those were things that Murdoc didn't have an abundance of. He scowled to himself as he waited for the login screen to come up and typed in his details with quick, impatient fingers. 

As soon as his desktop was up and fully loaded though, he clicked on his internet browser and immediately typed in the web domain of his favourite camboy website, which was already filling out in the search bar, he had been on it so many times.

Because, after all, it was a Saturday and he had nothing else to do.

He scrolled through the "Camboy" section of the site idly, taking occasional swigs from his can as he looked for someone that he liked. He didn't have any regular users or models that he went to in times like this, didn't have that sort of preference, insisted he wasn't lead by something so menial. But he did usually keep his eye out for whether or not they were streaming now, and if they had a small number of views, since usually the more niche kinda guys had a smaller audience but a higher approval rating, and that was the type that he liked.

But none of the live performers really caught his fancy as he kept scrolling down the page, all looking somewhat average in appearance and jumping straight to the shots of their dick over any sort of substance. Maybe that's what attracted the normal viewer of pornography, but it didn't attract him at all. He was half tempted to click off the site and try to see if any of the other cam sites he used had a better selection tonight.

But something at the bottom of his page caught his eye. 

A thumbnail that was almost exclusively pink with a young man in the centre, smiling sweetly. Just a head and shoulders shot, and it even looked like he was still clothed in the picture. Nothing inherently pornographic about it, looking almost like a thumbnail for a Youtube video rather than one on a nude camming website. 

Instantly intrigued, Murdoc clicked on the video stream.

It took a minute or so for his computer to catch up with the stream, since everything else seemed to load first (including a very busy chatbox, despite the lower audience count.) 

Underneath the loading video was a progress bar and several tiers listed underneath it, all things typical for cammers, at least in Murdoc's experience. The progress bar was a little under halfway full, so he could only assume the cammer hadn't been streaming for very long before he clicked on the video. 

Eventually though, his computer registered the video and it started to play.

"I'm in a lazy mood today, so I'm gonna finish my make-up on stream, I think. That okay with everyone?"

The young man on the screen was by no means Murdoc’s type. At least he didn't think he was at first glance anyway. 

The backdrop of the video was pink, and almost overwhelmingly "cutesy" with the amount of plush animals and cartoonish figures that filled the shelves surrounding his work space. Some of them were bright, some of them were a more pastel hue, but it all followed the vague theme of cute and slightly kitsch, in his opinion. 

The glittery knick knacks and toys somewhat reminded Murdoc of the cartoons that he and Noodle had been watching all day, but those thoughts quickly left his head when the cammer started talking to the camera again, laughing to himself, suddenly bringing all of Murdoc’s attention on him, and not his brightly coloured decor.

Though he seemed to have an aesthetic that he liked to decorate and dress with (he was wearing a similarly pink and white ensemble, relatively harmless and didn't show much skin), his hair was dyed a deep, dark blue, and his ears were riddled with silver studs and hoops, as well as a somewhat small stretcher in his lobes. 

But what caught Murdoc off guard was the deep black of his eyes, almost making it look like his eye sockets were completely empty. No visible iris, no pupil, nothing. Just plain, glossy black. It was by no means normal, at least he thought so, and he was absolutely enthralled with this man's empty eyes. So enthralled that he sat up in his seat a little, leaning over his desk, and he quickly typed out a question into the chat box, amongst the stream of compliments and requests for him to take off his clothes already.

 

**hailsatan666: Hey mate, why are your eyes black?**

 

If he was to cut the cammer off at the shoulders, he would have fit in perfectly with the punks and goths that Murdoc was more used to being around (though he had a much prettier face than some of those people). But this punky look, combined with his fashion and the decorations in his room, fascinated Murdoc beyond belief. 

2D, what everyone in the chat was calling him, was still busy outlining his eyes with a blue eyeliner and a smoky black kohl, and Murdoc couldn't really see if he was looking at his laptop or not, what with the lack of iris' and pupils. But eventually a small smile quirked on his lips as he lined his waterline, focusing on his heart shaped compact mirror over the camera.

"Since we have some newcomers tonight, for those who don't know, I'm part of the body mod community, and my first big mod was having my sclerae and irises dyed black." He set down his eyeliner pencil and picked up a small brush, and started to smudge the line under his eye. "I've had them for-" A pause, looking away from his compact and chewing his bottom life for a second. "Maybe a year now? I'm not too sure." Turning back to his mirror and continuing to smudge the line. 

Murdoc didn't even know that dying your eyes was something you could do, so at the very least he was learning something from all of this. 

More compliments streamed into the chat, some including the tip balloons that Murdoc was fairly familiar with. The numbers of his tips was quickly starting to climb, but the progress bar still had a big target just for the first reward, so he was in no hurry to finish with his makeup. 

Murdoc did feel somewhat special that 2D had answered his question though, amidst the hundreds of other people all watching his stream at the same time. Leaning on his desk, his head in his hands, he just watched 2D slowly apply a coat of black on his eyelashes, and idly chat along with the anonymous users all watching the same thing he was.

But Murdoc was somewhat unsure of the reason behind any of this. Why he had continued to watch for a good ten minutes at this point.

Maybe it was just because he didn't really have a fetish for pretty boys putting on nice clothes and makeup, but he was still interested by the man on his screen, and not even in an inherently sexual way (at least not yet). 

And he was none to judge with what people got their rocks off too. He had much worse fetishes, after all.

"'Oop, got another question!" 2D said brightly, eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "We're a very interested crowd tonight, it seems." He finally put down his compact mirror and leaned in closer to the camera, to look at his laptop (Murdoc assumed.)

"Okaaaay, 'what was the scariest thing about getting your eyes dyed?'" He read out loud from his computer, one eyebrow slightly raised and tucking a trailing strand of his hair behind his ear. Setting aside his makeup supplies and tapping a pink painted fingernail against his bottom lip. "Probably getting a needle in the eye." He said to the camera, with a chuckle. "But, er, I think that's what people are scared of, cus ya can't just not look at it, like with other body mods." Fiddling with something off camera, smiling to himself. "But, ya know, it makes it more unique, cus not a lot of people go through with it!"

Murdoc couldn't help but smirk slightly as he listened to 2D speak. He had a knack for capturing his audience, making a feigned sort of eye contact even when he couldn't make out where his eyes were looking. Even if sitting at his desk was uncomfortable, Murdoc felt strangely fixated with 2D, without an ulterior motive either.

And he did want to see what would happen once he hit his first target.

"Here, let me give you all a special close up look of 'em."

The camera zoomed in on his face, which quickly alerted Murdoc out of his daydream, and 2D adjusted himself so the main focus on the screen were his eyes. Murdoc could see how his eyeliner and the smudge under his eyelids put more emphasis on the dark of his eyes, almost making him look cartoonish as a contrast though. The blue washed out all the other warm colours of his skin and made the dark pop even more, made his skin look lighter, paler. He prodded at his lower eyelid to drag it down, and show the black of his entire sclera and iris.

Murdoc couldn't help but be interested in what he were looking at, almost in the morbid kind of way. It was interesting to him how he was watching someone with a pink background full of soft toys and fairy lights was talking about what sounding like an intense, painful procedure to make his eyes pitch black. But he liked the juxtaposition of styles. 

"It's not all black, unfortunately." He said, and Murdoc could hear the slight pout in his voice, which made him smile. "See, my iris is slightly darker, compared to the sclera. I think it's cus the dye has faded a little, over time" He spoke as he gestured at his eye, pointing at a reddish hollow circle in the centre of his eyes, obviously where the iris had been filled in with the dye. While it still blended into the main black of his eyes, he could see where he was gesturing. “Sometimes I tell people my eyes are just full of blood, so they’ll get off my case about it. People hate body mods like this.”

The camera zoomed out again and he gave the camera a cheerful little wave.

“And there's my face!" He smiled and adjusted himself in front of the camera, shuffling the way he was sat and smoothing out his clothes. "We're getting close to our first goal everyone, then the top comes off, as we all know!"

Murdoc almost felt obligated to tip him to his first tier as he spoke, and he quickly linked up his PayPal account with the streaming website, confirming everything in a separate window as 2D continued to talk happily with the chat box. 

He had to. No choice in the matter.

He wasn't getting off or anything (okay, maybe he was a little bit hard, but no more than usual), and he wasn't even sure if he was going to by the end of the stream. But weirdly, he was utterly enamoured by 2D, in a way he wasn't usually. Maybe it was because Murdoc was just plain attracted to him, that was an absolute, and he wanted to see what else he would do in the stream. 

That's how he justified sending the lad a five pound tip so early anyway.

Maybe he could bump it up to a tenner if 2D did anything interesting. And just ask for a few more hours at the shop if money was tight at the end of the month, and all of his rent money was sent off to a kitsch prostitute.

 

**hailsatan666: sent a £5 tip! Thank you for your support ^_^**

 

A flurry of pixilated confetti burst across 2D's video screen as soon as the donation was received, and it immediately caught his attention, alerting him out of his idle rambling (about where he got a figure from, if Murdoc had been paying attention correctly). As soon as he saw the confetti though, he smiled, bright and wide, giving Murdoc a glance of a chipped tooth at the back of his smile, and a gap in his two front, slightly protruding teeth. 

He liked seeing those somewhat human things about him when he'd gotten excited. Made the tip that much more worth it too.

"We've hit our first tier already!" 2D said excitedly, hands clasped together in surprise, before hurrying to unbutton his shirt (though it was more of a frilly blouse, in Murdoc's opinion, with lacy bell sleeves and a peter pan collar. Heart shaped buttons too.) "Thank you! Er..." 2D paused, leaning in to squint at his computer and read Murdoc's poorly chosen username in the chat box, before he let out a light giggle at his expense, leaning back. "Hail Satan 666, eh? You seem a bit different from my normal crowd of viewers."

Murdoc could feel his face flush and he pressed his head into his hands, feeling almost like the younger man (he assumed) could see him through the screen itself. 

Still giggling to himself, 2D slowly slid his shirt down his shoulders, revealing a clear vinyl, heavily studded chest harness, that actually fit Murdoc's choice of aesthetics a little more and immediately interested him (so much so that he'd shaken any sense of shame he'd had before and he was leaning closer to his desktop, as if that would have gotten him anywhere closer to 2D at all). Without any need for support or any kind of modesty, the rest of 2D's chest was bare, exposing silver rings through his nipples and a belly button piercing, all glinting brightly in the sudden light. 

All things very, very much Murdoc's style, and gave 2D a bit more of a punky edge, which he liked very much. Even though the pink of the background and the toys around him were still as present as ever, it was getting easier to ignore, the more he focused on him. Murdoc could already feel his mouth water just from looking at 2D's lithe little body. And he almost felt bad about some of the things he thought in that moment. 

Apparently a lot of people agreed, since a stream of comments, compliments, requests (very similar to Murdoc's own ideas, in fact) and tips piled into the chat box as soon as 2D's shirt was off, which Murdoc could only image he loved from the way he was smiling at the attention. He understood it, in a way. It was probably a wonderful confidence boost.

"I'm trying to raise money for a new mod. That's why my targets are a little higher today." 2D started, his voice almost apologetic but masked with a coy, sultry smile, sitting up on his knees and stroking down his chest. Tentative touches to begin with. Fingers fiddling with the countless studs on the harness before falling on the silver hoop through his nipple. Giving it a little tug, teasing himself, just for the camera. Smiling to himself, acting as if it hurt.

Teasing not just Murdoc, but three hundred other people, all watching the same video at the same time.

"I really wanna get, er, tattoos on my areolas." He continued, with a light giggle in spite himself. Still pulling at the rings. Still teasing. "I know it sounds stupid, but I really wanted them to be shaped like hearts. I just thought that would be so cute."

As he kept teasing his nipples, he knelt up a little more, so more of his body was in the shot. Showing off the front of a heavily laced up pink skirt, and starting to rub at his crotch through the heavy fabric and petticoat, gripping at himself lightly, fingers just slightly wrapped around his hard dick. Biting down on his lip a little, watching himself in the video screen as he tried to get into a better position for the camera, his audience. Deciding, eventually, on resting his back against the padded headboard of his bed, legs slightly spread and toes dug into the duvet, so the camera could see up the front of his skirt, but just the lacy hemline of his panties. Hiding himself in a way of being shy or discreet, but interesting his audience even more and resulting in an even faster stream of tips that would result in him taking the skirt off. Murdoc had to admit, he really had all of this thought out.

"I've paid the deposit and everything. So it's one hundred percent confirmed with my tattooist." He grinned a little, tipping his head back with a sigh as he continued to pleasure himself for the camera, but chatting away as if he was talking to a hairdresser. "Bet she thinks I'm a right weirdo, but as long as she gets paid, hardly think she minds." Giggling almost deliriously to himself, as he continued his experienced touches.

2D continued stroking himself, pulling at his nipple rings, for a little while longer, groaning softly, his head tipping back as he got lost in his own head, mumbling to himself about something that the audience couldn't pick up on, but didn't need to.

The chat box was going fucking nuts over this hedonistic display, and Murdoc was no different to any of them, though he wasn't vocalising it nearly as much on the chat. 

Instead he clung to his desk, just as a means of grounding himself, edging closer to the computer screen and rubbed at his achingly hard dick eagerly through the heavy joggers, gripping at his own dick loosely as he watched 2D do the same. Groaning silently to himself as he devoured the cammer on screen, wanting nothing more than to fuck him against his wall of soft animals and plastic toys. 

Just imagining 2D's slender legs around his waist, his head tipped back, his voice so raised in pitch it didn't sound like his own, his pale, white neck exposed and ready to be marked by him and him alone being enough to push Murdoc closer and closer to the edge. Always did have a bit of possessive side, even for sex workers. Very unprofessional.

Eventually he couldn't handle anymore of his own edging, his own teasing, and he slipped the hem of his joggers down around his knees, wrapping a hand around his bare dick, the jerks of his wrist already fast enough because of how desperate he already was just to get off. Watching 2D hitch up his skirt, stroke himself through his panties, of course not showing anything off to the camera, playing as coy as ever, lest he show anything before the tier goal was hit. No chance of someone, specifically Murdoc, being thrown a bone in the time of need.

"Little tease..." Murdoc muttered to himself, as if 2D could hear him, before he pressed his head down against the desk, his pace nearing furious and painful before he finally came over his fingers. Groaning as the wave of relief hit him and his body fell slack against his desk.  

His grip had been tight enough that nothing spilled onto his trousers, but he was still going to have to clean himself off, if not for anyone else but himself, because he hated the smell of lingering spunk for too long.

He figured that 2D was still going to be there if he went to the loo for a few minutes. But he made sure that his appreciation was received first.

 

**hailsatan666: sent a £5 tip! Thank you for your support ^_^**

**hailsatan666: Cheers for the quality orgasm, lovely.**

 

-

 

When Murdoc got back from the bathroom, wiping off his still damp hands on his jogging bottoms, the camera angle had moved slightly to the side of 2D's bed, and he was standing up and removing his skirt. His tip before he left must have been enough to push him to the next tier that was needed for him to get half naked, and everyone else in the chat seemed as pleased with it as he was.

After all, it had been a few minutes later, and he was fully prepared for another good orgasm. Didn't take him that long to warm up, after all.

"You know, now that we’re talking about it, I've never really known that well." 2D said conversationally, unlacing his skirt as his face screwed up into a slight, thoughtful frown. Dark brows knit together in deep consideration as he fiddled with the strings of his skirt. "Gender’s a funny thing like that, I suppose. Y’never really know what’s normal and what’s just...normal to you?” Smiling to himself.

“I s'pose I don't really mind too much. I mean, I feel like a man, most of the time." He continued, his face a little gentler, tugging down the still too tight skirt and petticoat gradually. 

Showing off a clear, heavily studded vinyl garterbelt (obviously a matching set with his harness), that held up his long white stockings. As he pulled his skirts down lower, pulling the lacing much looser from brute force alone, a pair of white, lace underwear was exposed, tight and in the exact right place, but doing absolutely nothing to hide his dick, the head already weeping and red, throbbing underneath the barely there white lace. 

Not the most practical pair of underwear, Murdoc thought for maybe half a second, before he considered that they were probably just for the soft, sexy aesthetics alone and had no need for practicality in the design at all.

Funny that in a situation like this he was thinking with his brain, rather than his dick.

"But then the rest of the time, it's just kinda blurry, if that makes any sense to you." 2D was still answering the question as he finally removed the skirt and threw it to the side, where his blouse had been discarded. Sitting back on the bed cross legged with a satisfied smile, almost as if he was admiring his naked body. "But I really don't mind at all. See me any way you want. If you'd like to see me as a girl, you can. If you'd like to see me as a boy, you can. It doesn’t really matter to me." 

Murdoc was somewhat blown away that a prostitute with interests in soft toys, cartoon figures and intense body modification could get that philosophical while simultaneously half naked, but it was nice to hear him speak so warmly about something that could have been a much more awkward conversation. Had he been someone who needed to hear something like that, 2D’s answer to the innocent, if slightly probing question probably would have been very affirming.

2D leant over the side of the bed for a few seconds as he spoke, bringing up a large, velvety blue folded pouch, embroidered rather nicely with gold accents, and a large gold plastic clasp that kept it shut. As mysterious as ever, but doing enough to gain back Murdoc’s attention as it started to dwindle as he listened but didn’t look. 

"I won't lie to you, I think it would be rather lovely to be a girl, sometimes. But being a boy is rather lovely too. Why would I want to say no to any of it?" 

He grinned cheekily as he unbuttoned the pouch and unfolded it, revealing a plethora of well designed, glass sex toys, ranging from one that looked like an unbloomed rose, another one that looked similar to one of the wands he had displayed on his shelf, and another that almost looked like a solid string of anal beads. All light pink and white in colour, of course, lest Murdoc forget his penchant for pastels. 

"After all, I'm never one to try and restrain myself. I usually get someone else t'do that."

Since the next tier to hit was eloquently titled "New toy in the ass!!", followed with several sparkly emoticons, much like his other tier titles had been, the chat box was rushing to fill up the status bar and achieve the next tier in as little time as possible, Murdoc being one of the many people donating pennies and pounds, just to fill the bar up quicker.

But with four hundred users in the chatbox and at least half of them donating, it was starting to fill up in barely any time at all.

"Oh! One of you bought me this one, actually!" 2D said, his voice excited as he picked out the wand shaped toy, holding it proudly and looking at it with even more pride and awe in his expression. "It's so pretty, right? I feel like I could just go out and kick some monster ass after I'm done with it! And after I clean it, I suppose." He chuckled lightly to himself. "I'll be the true Sailor Uranus with this thing." 

2D started laughing at his own joke, and several users key smashed an absurd response in the chatbox, but Murdoc was completely lost on what he was talking about. Not like he needed to know, but he liked being in on the joke, whatever it might have been. 

While he waited for the progress bar to fill up, 2D idly toyed with the head of his dick again, sitting back on his bed and pulling down the front of his lace panties. Tracing his fingernail over his bare head, over the dripping slit, making Murdoc realize that 2D didn't have a foreskin. 

Somehow even that was sort of sexy to him, but maybe he was getting too ahead of himself and idolizing everything about 2D before he really thought about it.

"I've been thinking about maybe getting a dick piercing soon. Maybe a Prince Albert or something." 2D said, still stroking his slit, smearing the drops of pre-cum down the rest of his length, smirking to himself (probably at the outraged response he got from the people in the chat box.) "I guess it's a scarier sounding piercing, but I already had a needle in the eye, right? I'm sure I could take one in the dick too."

Murdoc chuckled to himself as he kept watching, taking a long swig from his previously forgotten beer that had gotten lukewarm in the time you had watched 2D's stream. Not like he was going to complain or anything, but it was just a little more unpleasant to drink than it was before.

"Shit, you lot are fast today. We're almost at the next tier already!" 2D said excitedly, sitting forward and picking up the wand sex toy again. "I can't wait to try this out, but I have no idea what it's going to feel like though. Do you guys think it's a bit too girly, maybe? I think it fits my general theme though."

Several commentators agreed vehemently that it suited him well, another sending a large tip balloon for him to treat himself to "another fairy wand" but Murdoc was interested in a bit more of a conversation. Of course he attached a tip with his question, so not to sound cheeky, but he was interested nevertheless.

 

**hailsatan666: Don't you think maybe your body mods are a bit punkish, compared to the rest of your stuff? Maybe you could get something a bit harder to suit that side of you, eh? ;)**

 

2D was silent for a second, head resting on his hand and his wand twiddling to the side of him, but he let out a bright laugh as he read through the chat box, leaning back and covering his mouth as he giggled. 

"I guess I do have a bit of a punk streak in me, Mister.” He drawled out the last word, pausing and tapping the head of his wand against his chin thoughtfully. “Shall I call you Six Six Six?" 

Smiling at the camera as soon as he shook off his giggles, making Murdoc's heart clench even more than his dick was, despite his poor choice of username. 

"And I do actually have some harder stuff, but I don't think I show you properly just by myself, right?" A slight raised eyebrow, almost like he was challenging Murdoc playfully. Putting images of hardcore bondage, petplay harnesses, latex bindings and god knows what else in Murdoc’s mind. "Maybe if you tip me high enough, you could get the chance to see some of that harder stuff for yourself. I’m very accomodating on that front.” 2D gave the camera a cheeky wink, his tongue playfully between his teeth as he continued to twirl his wand like a baton.

Just from 2D's acknowledgement of him and his cheeky flirting, Murdoc donated enough to the stream to get the progress bar full to the next tier. Feeling almost like a little lap dog following it's master obediently, though he was quickly one hundred percent fine with it when 2D's face dropped slightly, and he moved back from his camera. 

An expression of almost shock. Something to be proud of

Blinking his big black eyes slowly like he couldn't quite believe what he was looking at, as another flurry of confetti burst across his video. Grinning widely barely a second after his shock though, almost looking like he was accepting a challenge. And Murdoc was interested to see what he had planned for this tier reward (maybe hoping that his donation wasn't going to be ignored or put aside either.)

"You must like me a lot, eh?" 2D teased, kneeling up on his bed and setting down his wand. Unclipping his suspenders from his stockings and pulling his knickers off around his knees, before changing his position to whip them off all together. Just for easier access, Murdoc assumed. "Don't blame you. I like me too."

Giving his waiting audience a good look of his beautiful little dick, running a thumb over the head before leaning to the side of his bed again and bringing up a small-ish bottle of lube. Obviously stowed away to the side for occasions such as this. 

He sat back against his headboard, his legs spread and his hips slightly raised as he squeezed a good amount of lube on his index and middle finger, before he rubbed the two of them against his hole. Letting out steady little breaths as he prepared himself. A practice he had done too many times to be a novice about it, Murdoc admired the way he so easily prepped himself for the much bigger toy. He'd seen too many times camboys acting like virgins around sex toys, and yet were able to take the biggest one of the bunch without any trouble at all, so it was refreshing to see someone approach the act like a professional, and actually not put on an act of innocence just for the camera.

"I know you lot have seen me take much bigger than this, but this is my biggest glass toy, I think." 2D said softly, pressing the first finger inside himself with a soft grunt. Loosening himself up first before he pressed the second one in, quickly, letting out a long groan as a response. Clearly used to it. "Glass is a bit tougher for me. Even though it feels lovely when it's in."

He reached for his bottle of lube again with his free hand, and squeezed more over his fingers, over his hole as he started to stretch himself open. Some of the access dripped down the cleft of his ass and over his thighs, making them appear shiny and sticky. Staining his stockings in the process, but making Murdoc's mouth water as he started rubbed at himself again, his dick quickly hardening as he watched the gorgeous display on his computer screen. 

2D continued to finger himself for a few more minutes, even adding a third finger and scissoring them slightly, just to prepare himself even more. Groaning softly to himself when he couldn’t think what else to talk about. Taking it without any kind of bother at all before he took his fingers out of himself, wiping them against his hip and grabbing for his wand. 

Ready for whatever it might have felt like. 

He took in a long, steady breath, his toes already clenching slightly underneath his light stockings, before he started to press the length of the wand inside himself. Unable to hold back a whimper and a hushed gasp as he did, the length of the glass dildo much more solid than his fingers had been, much less malleable and easy to take (and probably colder too). But he kept going, working it in and out of himself slowly, warming himself up to the foreign feeling.

There was more than enough lube that it wasn't going to feel uncomfortable, but he still bit at his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, softly grunting as he eased it in deeper. His dick uselessly twitching against his belly, ignored between his spread legs, but he moaned loudly like it was the best feeling in the world, head tipped back against his headboard and his body arched beautifully.

Murdoc's eyes were completely glued to the screen as he started to work himself over in time with 2D's gentle motions, and he probably wasn't the only one so interested since the chat box was suddenly mysteriously quiet. It seemed that no-one wanted to be distracted from the action for even a second, so there were only a few users posting tips and words of encouragement in the chat box while everyone else was busy. 

There were no more tiers to reach, 2D's target having been reached a little over five minutes ago, but people still wanted to share their appreciation for him. He might not have had the biggest audience on the site, but he was certainly popular with his niche. And that was what most cammers wanted, after all. A dedicated audience who tipped nearing three hundred pounds in the space of two hours, and those who didn't tip leaving nothing but positive comments and questions, treated him like a person.

Probably wasn't all that bad a gig, in Murdoc's opinion at least. 

In the midst of his little daydream, 2D had managed to get the entire (usable) length of the wand inside himself. Something he seemed to be quite proud of, from the ecstatic look on his face.

"Looks like I got a little heart pokin' out my arse, doesn't it?" He said with a worn out giggle, giving the handle of the sex toy a little prod, like he was trying to press the toy deeper into himself (as if he could have taken it any deeper.) 

"It's cute though, isn't it? Just..." 2D paused, gripping at the handle and pulling the wand halfway out of himself, before he pushed it in deep again, throwing his head back and moaning like a porn star at the hard stimulus on his prostate. "I-It's just so big." Whimpering as he repeated this action again, each time harder than the last. "And so thick." Making his body spasm and twitch and his thighs press together, only giving the camera a view of his ass.

Though Murdoc would have preferred getting to look at his face as he took the toy as well, the way that his eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip. The way that his dark eyebrows knit together in effort as he continued to stimulate himself so roughly for the camera. 

But he was more than happy with seeing 2D push the toy deeper inside his perfectly pink hole, and it was getting him off either way, so he wasn't exactly going to voice his mild complaints in the chat box. 

As if he could have taken his hands off his dick for even a second. 

After a few more of the brutal thrusts, 2D changed his position, turning on his front and giving the camera a good look of his soft, peachy ass. With his soft thighs pressed together, there was no chance of seeing his lovely dick bob and weep as he fucked himself, but, again, it wasn't something that Murdoc was going to complain about. 

2D had a tattoo on the back of his right thigh, a band logo that Murdoc didn't recognise, and a stick and poke rave smiley and a tiny silver barbell on his perineum. All things that mildly caught Murdoc's interest (he wondered for a second if getting needles to the taint hurt as badly as getting them in the eye) in between admiring the way that 2D fucked himself, drinking every sound, every whimper. Every time that he mumbled how close he felt, how hard his dick was, how much he was going to cum. 

Murdoc's own pace was ruthless now, matching 2D's almost exactly, like he was trying to imagine that his grip on his dick felt anything like how wonderful 2D's ass might have felt. Imagining his hands in the young man's hair, his dick buried deep in that lovely little ass. Biting his neck, possessing him for everyone to see, stroking over all those little tattoos and piercings, groping his chest and making all his nice clothes messy and wrinkled because of how viciously he fucked him. 

He tipped his head back against his office chair, moaning softly to himself, 2D's name on his lips like it was a mantra. He wanted to know what the cammer's real name might have been, so he could have moaned that instead, not caring how sappy the thought might have sounded. 

He wanted 2D, desperately, and he didn't care what he'd have to do to get him. He'd spend paycheck after paycheck on the young man, buy him anything he wanted, do anything he wanted, as long as 2D would be his, and only his

Murdoc was so lost in his own thoughts about the sex worker on his screen, that he barely heard the front door downstairs open and close (loudly, enough to almost shake the house) and he only heard the shouted greeting of his housemates the second that he came all over his fingers and jogging bottoms. 

Murdoc was left in a slight feeling of aftershock as he sat back in his office chair, fingers sticky with cum, that was also quickly soaking into his trousers, much to his dismay. Eyes wide and his jaw dropped, dumbly, he couldn't even focus on the video on screen anymore. Maybe he was dissociating. Never really knew in circumstances likes this. 

He heard activity downstairs and he knew he probably should have joined in with it, and actually socialise with his friends now that they were finally home, but he felt almost frozen in his seat, unsure of what to do next. Like nothing else really mattered now that he had separated himself from the stream and the audience. He almost felt dirty, in a weird sort of way, different from how he usually felt after a session with a camboy.

All he could think to do was dumbly type out a badly worded message for the chat box (leaving a hefty anonymous tip that would have made a significant dent in his paycheck at the end of the month, but no matter.) Turning off the monitor and cleaning himself up was the next thing he'd figured out, though these joggers were absolutely ruined now he’d let his spunk soak in.

Trying not to be taken aback by just how much the second orgasm of the evening had hit him, as he tried not to stumble as he walked to the bathroom, his legs feeling like jelly underneath him.

He would absolutely have to change his trousers if he was going to go downstairs though.

 

-

 

To: hailsatan666

From: zombieprettyboy

 

Hey you! :)

You left the chat before I got the chance to thank you for your support tonight. You're a dream for a guy like me, and there was no way I was going to forget your username, haha!! XD

https://zombieprettyboy.tumblr.com/ 

I've sent you a link to my private tumblr, so maybe we could chat again sometime? You basically paid for my new tattoos so it's only fair you're the first one to see them ;)

Don't be a stranger!

\- 2D

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first double feature of the year!! thx for 1k hits lads
> 
> im back in england and publishing using my mobile data on the motorway. feels good man
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	8. Moon Prism Power [Part 2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 16 + 17: sex work + lingerie  
> third person, from murdoc’s perspective, alternative universe, part two of three

After a greasy chip shop dinner and a long conversation with Russel and Del about how the British schooling system was inherently flawed and past the point of saving (normal dinner table talk for them) and wondering if the message in his inbox was sent to the right person or not, Murdoc spent a good hour of Saturday evening/quickly approaching Sunday morning researching what a ‘tumblr’ was, and why 2D might have sent him the link to his ‘private tumblr’ as a thank you for his slightly overzealous spending. **  
**

[@zombieprettyboy](https://tmblr.co/maNY4MjJqg-jWiB2LUbgiug)

Wondering what he might have found if he’d clicked on the link that the gorgeous piece of ass he’d wanked off to twice in the space of two hours, and what might have been waiting for him, behind walls of coding and web pages. Wondering if maybe he’d find more of what he saw in the video livestream, or perhaps just a donation page to fund a new body mod.

In all honestly, Murdoc wasn’t sure if he minded either way. He probably would have sent something just because of his good humour.

He couldn’t help but let his paranoia get the best of him though, as he considered what might have happened if he did, in fact, entertain the idea that 2D was even remotely interested in him, someone who was essentially a perverted stranger.

The worst parts of his brain naturally wondered if perhaps the blog might have been a trick. A set up deception to play a cruel joke, or a way to know his full name, his age, his location, his bank details, his hopes, his dreams, his failed band concept when he was in his twenties, the fleeting moments where he would masturbate to re-runs of The Young Ones, everything he made an attempt to hide from the normal people in his life.

Various sources and sites assured him that ‘tumblr’ was a blogging website though, and that it was perfectly safe and popular with today’s young and hip youth. Not really any different from the other blogging websites and social media platforms that Murdoc had seen over his years as an internet elder, in his opinion, though it did have a few more different features that he wasn’t as used to.

A more user friendly interface, a bolder design, an easier way to connect with people. Easier ways to share pictures and posts, the kinds of stuff young people seemed to eat up. Not like he really had any idea what young people liked, despite how much he worked with them, but he could have only assumed it was popular with them.

Eventually, he got curious enough to suppress his paranoia and open the link that 2D has sent him.

To no surprise at all, a bright pink gingham checkered webpage was the first thing to pop up, followed by tiny pixelated pictures of the toys 2D had in his video backdrop floating across the screen as he scrolled down the contents of the blog, and similarly pink and pastel images loaded slowly as he went further down the page as a means of feeding his curiosity around the mysterious sex worker.

But Murdoc almost smiled to himself as he scrolled through the pages content idly, wondering why he might have expected any different from the younger man (younger by a fair amount too, since 2D’s bio box said that he was, in fact, twenty five. Murdoc just had to hope the guy wouldn’t have a problem with a potential age gap.)

There were few personal posts that broke up the picture posts, but what was there piqued his interest even more. Laments about doctor’s appointments and extended time on trains. Simple little thoughts about television shows and fashion trends that Murdoc didn’t understand. Frantically typed sexual fantasies and messed up drunk typing, the works for a man at that sort of age.

All typed in the way that 2D’s message had been typed (with an abundance of emoticons and gifs of animated characters), of course, in a very characteristic way that Murdoc found somewhat endearing. Made him want to read more and more of 2D’s little posts, just to get a somewhat glimpse as to what the young man’s life might have been like (though he did have worrying thoughts that the desire might have been a bit lecherous towards a man he barely knew.)

Though what piqued Murdoc’s interest a little more than the text posts and pictures, was the downright filthy porn that occasionally broke up the photosets of soft toys, plastic charms, kittens, highly detailed toys and girls in cute clothes.

And he only got more interested when it was the kind of stuff that Murdoc generally preferred when it came to porn as well.

Boys in heavy leather and latex bondage, stiff and warping their bodies, ropes leaving imprints on their white skin. Girls with tears streaking mascara and eyeliner down their cheeks and a dick in their mouth, similarly smeared lipstick on their cheeks (since his bio did claim that he was bisexual, after all). Deep cuts down pale skin with dripping almost fake looking blood down sickly flesh. Boys and girls bent over someone’s knee with lovely bruises painting their skin with purple and blue, with nothing more than a pout at the pain.

Knives, blood, leather on leather on leather. Pet play harnesses, bondage furniture, contraptions that Murdoc could only conceptualise in his mind.

Just knowing that 2D was into the more hardcore side of the fetish community made Murdoc’s mind run with horrible, nasty ideas, that even just thinking about them made him feel a bit guilty, though how could he be when it was clear that 2D wanted the exact same thing?

There were a few original pictures against the background that Murdoc recognized so well too, though they would be links to his streaming site, and the promo pictures were not nearly as hardcore as the kind of shit that he was reposting onto his page.

Though maybe that was because he needed someone else to do all those sorts of things with. And that’s what he’d sent the message to begin with.

Because judging from the posts that he made, and the tags that he captioned his photos with, he wanted someone who could do all of those things with him.

Someone who might have been brutal with him, who could give him everything that he wanted and more, but someone who would also look after him, and keep him safe, and take him to the hospital when his head hurt too much to drive.  

Needless to say, 2D probably didn’t have a partner. No wonder, Murdoc was sure that most people probably wouldn’t have been comfortable with the idea of a chatroom full of strangers seeing their boyfriend’s asshole on a weekly basis, but that was just because most people were more old fashioned than they let on most of time.

That’s what Murdoc thought at least.

But there was an urge deep inside of him, that had only been blooming bigger and bigger when he’d left the chat room and gotten a moment to think properly.

2D was something incredibly special, and Murdoc couldn’t help but be absolutely enamoured and somewhat possessive over him. The very idea that he might have had a boyfriend or a girlfriend made Murdoc want to scowl, and while he knew that he had no right to have that level of possessive thought over someone he had never met, he couldn’t make it go away.

So in his mind, the only rational thing that he could have done was to try and win 2D over. Be the absolute perfect gentleman, everything that 2D wanted and lamented after in his personal posts.

He just needed to figure out how this website worked.

Noodle would have probably known though.

-

When he looked back on it, Murdoc was almost embarrassed to admit just how little time it had taken him to get ‘healthily obsessed’ with 2D. **  
**

And of course he was calling it a healthy obsession, because while the obsession was there and it was obvious it was there (especially if you were to look at any of his recent bank statements), it hadn’t gotten to any kind of unhealthy standard yet, at least in Murdoc’s eyes. It was more of a very observant crush if anything. Unrequited or otherwise.

Because it wasn’t like he was thinking about him every second of the day, or anything like that (yet). He had a life, after all, a job that took up a lot of his time and mental energy, and a house (albeit one he shared with three other people) that he needed to take care of and pay bills and rent for.

He couldn’t afford to think about and lust after an overly polite, sugary sweet camboy all hours of the day, as much as he would have liked to. And he would have liked to, very much.

On top of the natural distractions that life brought him, Murdoc was slightly conscious of the (probably small) chance that 2D might have found him creepy if he were to push his limits a bit too far and fuck it all up. And his worries only happened to heighten a tiny bit more, day by day, when he thought about the age difference between the two of them. Never bothered him with his partners before, but for some reason, twelve measly years suddenly felt huge.

Maybe it was creepier to follow his blog with a profile devoid of any sort of personality or content, other than an excessive amount of gay porn and bands from the seventies but he preferred that to 2D knowing that he was much closer to forty than he was twenty five.

That and he didn’t really have the guts to ask Noodle to help him figure out how any of those profiles worked or how to edit them, so default everything seemed to be the way to go for now.

Despite his worries and the never ending paranoia still chewing his brain, there was a somewhat nurturing, caring side (tiny compared to the rest of the sides of him, but there never the less) to Murdoc that liked being able to check up on 2D and see how life was treating him.

He liked being able to see what 2D had gotten up to during a day, what new piercings and tattoos he had gotten or booked for (the heart shaped areola ones seemed to be healing wonderfully too) and he even liked the ramblings about fashion and cartoons that he didn’t really understand, but appreciated regardless.

Murdoc had even gotten to the point of preferring his personal posts on his blog over the weird porn and gothic aesthetics (even over 2D’s own pictures too), and he’d once spent an afternoon sending anonymous questions into 2D’s ask page, so that he could learn a little more about him outside of his weekly streams.

Maybe it would reinforce their made up bond just a little bit more, or be a means of intimacy between them, Murdoc learning more and more about him. He didn’t really know, but he liked knowing little factoids about 2D and storing them away in his head like trivia about a celebrity.

2D was twenty five. 2D was a university drop out and he used to study drama. 2D lived with his best friend, who was also his tattooist, and he’d filmed an amateur porn video in her studio without telling her once, and she still got angry about it. 2D was bisexual, and claimed that he didn’t have a preference, but he had crushes on girls a bit more often. 2D’s favourite films were Dawn of the Dead, Scream and the first Sailor Moon animated movie.

2D had autism. 2D was bipolar and had a type of psychosis and depression that he took medication for and went to counselling for every Tuesday morning. 2D had a dependency on painkillers due to chronic pain as a teenager, and he was trying to get treatment for it but went to a private doctor (every Thursday morning) that cost him a lot of money and barely made any advancements.

2D was a Gemini (like Murdoc, in fact) and his birthday was in a few weeks (the twenty-third of May.) 2D used to play the piano, but fell out of it when he left school. 2D wanted to buy a keyboard but he wasn’t sure if he’d have space for it in his flat. 2D knew how to read sheet music, and he used to play songs for girls to get them to fall in love with him. 2D admits that high school was a fairly dark period for him.

Eventually, and not long after that afternoon of curiosity, Murdoc figured that after a few weeks of somewhat lecherous creeping, he ought to make his presence known, and assure 2D that he was there (since there had been a few posts about ‘666’, enough to elicit anonymous questions), and he was paying attention to everything that he was seeing.

That’s when the gifts began to happen.

Initially, and somewhat embarrassingly in hindsight, the gifts and the presents would be sex toys and lingerie. The things in the wishlist that 2D provided for the fans of his livestreams (which was what Murdoc was), things that he would be able to use in future recording sessions and the like. Things that were clearly more ‘work appropriate’ than anything else.

The kind of things that would make the possessive little knot in Murdoc’s crooked little heart throb with delight when he saw the younger man using them.

Particularly when he would use the new toys over his own personal collection on himself during the later parts of his stream (not telling anyone where he was getting all of these shiny new things from, naturally). When he would wear the shockingly seductive underwear (heavily studded and leather sometimes, nearly see through mesh and lace other times, if he was lucky, showing off his new tattoos without being direct) underneath his innocent blouses and skirts.

Somehow, just those tiny additions alone would made the entire stream feel like it was 2D’s own gift to him, a way to say thank you, in the only way that he knew how to.

It felt like Murdoc was marking him, in a weird sort of way, subconsciously making it clear to everyone else in the livestream chat that 2D was his, and no-one else was so honoured to have that next level of intimacy with him. Or at least no-one wanted to.

No-one else had Murdoc’s level of confidence, it seemed.

He’d even had fleeting thoughts of possibly sending 2D a collar, one of the pretty rainbow iridescent ones ones that he had posted on his tumblr with lots of heart emoticons in the caption, only dreaming of one day owning.

More expensive, yes, but exponentially more personal than the sex toys and lingerie had been. And a much more romantic way to really prove how possessive he could be. Maybe an engraved heart tag on the ring too, with ‘666’ on it, or maybe even his real name.

Murdoc could have only imagined the reaction he might have gotten to something like that.

After those fleeting thoughts of more personal, less work orientated gifts, however, and a long time over thinking if this would be a step too far, the near bi-weekly gifts started to become less practical and so, so much more personal and special.

Murdoc would start to buy things from 2D’s other wishlist.

The one that he posted on his blog, the page filled to the brim with collectibles, plush toys, animation figures and expensive dolls, quartz stone earrings and body jewelry, and the odd niche speed metal t-shirt. The kinds of things that 2D had just kept as a “what-if” kind of deal. A go to for birthdays and holidays for his friends, and a means of pretending that he would have the sort of money one day to treat himself with all the things that he wanted.

He was lucky, in that sense, that he had a guy who was absolutely head over heels for him, and was willing to shell out a bit extra every payday just to see him smile.

Every penny would always be worth it too when Murdoc got the chance to see his smile in motion every week. And properly smile to. Not the coy, sultry look he gave to his audience, or the innocent pout that was just as popular.

The proper mouth open, teeth gap on show, exposed cracked molar, look of absolute and sheer delight that 2D would radiate every time that he opened a new care package sent from Murdoc (secretly, of course) during the beginning “safe-for-work” section of his livestreams, where he would chat with the regulars and talk about himself.

Murdoc always made it clear that he wanted 2D to open the care packages on the livestream, so that he would be able to see him. Always signed the amazon orders with the exact same thing.

That way 2D would always know that it was him.

Don’t forget to let me see your pretty face smile again this week. Take care, doll.

666 x

He didn’t really know why it made his night (or practically his week on some bad occasions) so much, to see what was essentially a stranger look so happy over something Murdoc didn’t even know the name of, but it really did something for him.

Made his heart swell every time he saw 2D smile. His real smile.

And though he was quieter during the livestreams lately, so not to call attention to himself anymore, and near silent when it came to following his tumblr, he was sure that 2D knew that he was there, truly there now, and maybe he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

-

It took a few more weeks before Murdoc decided to make the next step. Do the classic “grand gesture” as rom coms and romance experts liked to call it, especially when it was so close to 2D’s birthday and he hadn’t considered what he might have gotten for him yet.

Or at least that’s what the romance experts he knew called it.

Admittedly, he’d only gotten any sort of romantic advice from his house’s resident thirteen year, and yes, while the majority of the romance she knew about was from lesbian coded anime, the thought was there. And it was somewhat appreciated, albeit unasked for.

Noodle had told him, during one of their film nights and while he was plaiting her choppy bob of a haircut as well as he could, that he needed to pay attention to the little details about someone to really impress them. It didn’t need to be something big, she insisted, through handfuls of popcorn, it just needed to be special. Like surprising them with their favourite flowers or getting them their favourite food. And they didn’t need to ask you for it, or hint at it, you just knew because you knew them so well.

Because you loved them.

Really, it was much better advice than Murdoc was anticipating to get from a thirteen year old with only one side of the story (without the sex work and pseudo-sugar daddy nonsense he was up to) and it wasn’t something that he could really argue with.

He asked what she might have thought would be special enough for a guy that he thought was so special, while he continued to loop her hair around his fingers. She shrugged and said that he would have to figure it out himself, and it would be more special if he did it himself without any of her help.

Murdoc could just smirk at her remark as he kept plaiting, paying little attention to the film.

Though half watching something about a gay sci-fi love pact combined with intense couples piano playing must have had a bit of an influence on him when he went to his computer the following morning. Racking his brain and trying to think what would be an appropriate enough grand gesture for 2D. What would have really impressed him, blown him off his feet, so to speak?

What would have shown him that Murdoc was interested in more than just the great ass and penchant for particularly kinky fetishes? What might have convinced him that actual feelings were there now, through no fault of his own? Actual, real life human emotions that Murdoc was sure he’d stopped having the moment he started to pay taxes.

Though as soon as it hit him, Murdoc wondered why he had taken so long on figuring out, when it seemed so obvious all of a sudden.

He spent the next few hours of his night on amazon, extensively searching for the perfect thing. The thing that would sum up everything that he had learnt about 2D over the last couple of months, something that would perfectly encapsulate 2D as a physical object, and something that would delight him just as much as it suited him.

And he wanted the very best too. Nothing cheap, nothing low quality. He wanted something that would be as impressive being delivered and received as it was impressive out of the box.

So naturally it would have to be something big.

Something quite big, in fact.

Something with eighty eight keys, black and white, and something that 2D didn’t know if he would have space for in his flat.

Murdoc closed his eyes, already wincing in pain as his cursor hovered over the 'Buy Now’ button on the screen. This thing was going to be the most expensive thing he bought for 2D, and there was no doubt that it was going to leave a significant chunk in his bank statement next month, and maybe he’d have to take a few extra visitation hours to keep out of the red zone, but that didn’t matter.

He wanted to make 2D happy. And he knew that this was going to make him happier beyond any other sort of belief.

He clicked the button.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughhhh i'm big behind on this challenge eh? i'll catch up. somehow. maybe. don't count on it
> 
> i'm not adding any more tags or updating the summery, cus it's just more of this shit, right? right.
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com  
> ray x


	9. Moon Prism Power [PART 3]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 16 + 17: sex work + lingerie  
> third person, from 2D’s perspective, alternative universe, part three of four

Mornings were nearly always the same for Stuart, as much as he hated to admit it. 

He didn't typically like planning his life out, or trying to structure things in the methodical way that his therapist had suggested he do. Even in his youth, he preferred to be impulsive, take risks and just do whatever he wanted, and he'd been able to get away with that lifestyle for a while. When he didn't need to impress anyone,when he lived in a squat, no-one really gave a shit what he did.

But since he started paying rent and not sleeping on mattresses with grime covered strangers, contracting every STI under the sun and taking too many drugs for his student finance to keep on top of, even he had to admit that having, at the very least, a basic checklist of things he needed to do every day helped him. 

It was rehabilitating, almost, and it meant that his housemate wouldn't have to do everything by herself. 

Because he cared about that now. 

One of the harsh realities of no longer being a twenty-one year old narcotic addicted heart-throb anymore, but one that he was getting used to. One that actually helped.

So today was hardly out of the ordinary, at least the morning was.

He usually woke up at around nine in the morning, but today, he had allowed himself an extra half hour to sleep in, rationalising it since he had streamed the night before and he wasn't leaving the house for doctor's appointments or errands anyway. After that, he stayed in bed for a while longer, scrolling through his various social media platforms, replying to questions and compliments, watching fashion videos, and reading through the countless emails he'd gotten from 'fans' interested in meeting with him for more 'personal' work (that he always deleted without reading anyway.)

After that, and after a good ten minutes of trying to persuade himself to leave the comfortable, pale pink confines of his bed, he got up to find his pillbox and take the plethora of pills he needed on a daily basis in order to function like a regular person. Swallowed down with lukewarm water in a Hello Kitty mug, naturally.

Since the pills would make his stomach turn so much, more than not, he skipped breakfast and just showered first, reminding himself to eat later when he felt better. 

Showering the morning after a stream was one of his life's few true pleasures, Stuart thought, so he always took his time with this step on his daily to-do list. Sometimes taking advantage of the remnants of lube still up his ass from the night before and getting himself off remembering how good it felt to feel pleasure by himself, for once. But often he'd just allow himself a few minutes of pleasant white noise from the streaming shower head and let himself drift away as he deep-conditioned his bleach-damaged hair, watching as the bleeding blue dye pooled around his feet and swirled away down the drain.  

If the heat from the shower didn't make him so light headed, Stuart was sure that he could have spent his entire life under the running water, even though it wrinkled his skin and made his vision blurry.

He felt it was worth it for a few minutes of genuine peace.

Regardless, he had to carry on with the rest of his day, so after probably too long using the limited hot water the flat had, he got out of the shower and dried himself off. Listening to the Human League at the highest volume he could go without a neighbour complaining, he danced himself dry.

If someone had caught him through the blinds over his window, he didn't care, and just hoped they enjoyed the show and didn't mind seeing a flash of penis over their morning cup of tea.

As soon as he was dry, he got changed into an outfit for the day. And since today he wasn't going to be leaving the house or doing anything where people might see him, he went lazy and chose a pair of black running shorts and a t-shirt from his fresh laundry pile, something pink and embellished with Sailor Moon graphics that made him feel cute. 

Always important in any outfit choice, he believed.

The first chore on his to-do list was always clean up after himself, especially considering he had done a fairly hardcore stream the night before, and he’d managed to make a right mess of his bedroom floor since he didn’t clean up before knocking out due to sheer exhaustion. 

Whenever he cleaned the morning after filming, sterilizing and packing away dildos and buttplugs, he liked to imagine that he’d have more space one day, and a room to himself that he could dedicate to filming, and leave as messy as he wanted without it affecting his real life living arrangements. It was a nice thing to imagine, but unless he was going to start some hardcore saving and relax a little on the body mods and piercings, it wasn't anything within the realms of reality yet. 

But he didn't really mind that much. He just didn't like cleaning so thoroughly so he wouldn't smell soaked in spunk whenever he went into his room every day. Because no self-respecting twenty five year old should have to smell day old spunk. 

Especially when they had housemates to consider too.

Speaking of, his housemate and very closest best friend was already up and waiting for him when he finally left his room with a pile of dirty dishes and a bundle of dirty clothes under his arm.

"You need to stop having half-hour long showers, Stuart. Keith is going to start charging us extra if we don't cut back a bit."

Sitting at the breakfast bar, her black ink tattoo covered arms exposed in her work ‘uniform’ (though the definition was loose), carefully picked out piercings riddling her ears and certain parts of her face, and a dangerously intimidating, almost black aura exuding from her at all times, Stuart couldn't think of anyone better to have as his best friend.

"I'll stop when they stop feeling so good."

Paula said nothing in response, drinking from a slowly steaming mug, decorated to look like a ouija board, as Stuart placed his washing up in the sink and started up the hot water again. Catching sights of one of his own mugs with CareBear emblems embossed on the side, it made him smile, thinking just how polar opposite the two of them were, but how well they seemed to bond despite that.

"Did you stream last night?" She asked, a pierced eyebrow slightly raised, watching as he squat down to put away his bundle of clothes in the washing machine under the kitchen counter. "Thought I could hear you from downstairs at some point."

"Shit, really?" Stuart said quickly, standing up to his full height in alarm. "Fuck, no-one said anything about it, did they?"

"No, no, it was just me. Everyone else was drunk anyway, so they wouldn't have cared." She replied with a light smirk, chuckling at her housemate's sudden relief. "Should start giving me a schedule for that kinda stuff though. I'll make sure not to let in drunk walk-ins on your streaming nights."

"I'll try and sort something out." He smiled at her apologetically, starting up the washing machine. 

"You got another package from your sugar daddy, by the way. Got the slip in the post this morning." Paula mumbled over the edge of her mug, glaring up at him with heavily made up eyes. Always made up, ready for the runway, whether she was leaving the house or not. Something Stuart admired about her. "You need to start waking up earlier to sign for this shit. Post office must think you're a right spoiled brat."

"He's not my sugar daddy." Stuart replied with an annoyed pout, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "He just buys me things sometimes...it's not like he pays my rent or anything like that."

"Yet." She put her mug down, resting her head in her hands. "I bet he would if you asked him nice enough. Maybe we'd actually be able to get the rent to Keith on time if he did."

"I don't think it would be a matter of just asking though." He said, tucking a trailing strand of his still damp hair behind his ear, and chewing at a painted thumbnail idly as he turned the sink tap off. "I mean, even if I did ask, who knows what kinda shit he's into? Might ask me to do something...weird."

"Weirder than shoving one of those wands up your ass?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"You know what kind of people look at my videos, Polly." Stuart replied, looking over at her, still nervously chewing at his nails. "I don't wanna think he's like that but...I dunno.” He let out a long steady sigh. “Is this stupid?"

"I thought we established you're always stupid."

"You know what I mean."

"I mean.” She started, stretching herself out. “It’s not smart, but I thought you liked this bloke." She picked up her mug again, her gaze idly flicking up to him as she sipped from it, tapping her red nails against the painted porcelain. "It's good that you're trying to be smart about this all of a sudden, Stu, but he doesn't seem like your normal clientele, does he? Maybe he doesn't have any ulterior motives at all." Putting down her mug again and leaning back. “Maybe he’s just a rich weirdo.”

"I s'pose you're right." He mumbled thoughtfully, a small smile on his face growing as he spoke. "I mean, he hasn't even asked me for anything specific yet. I've offered it as well." He laughed softly, pushing a hand through his hair. "He's just been... really nice. Like a proper gentleman."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Pot." Paula scolded softly, in her motherly way, standing to her feet and pacing over to the kitchenette to join him. "He's still a stranger."

"You were a stranger once too." Stuart replied with a light smirk, leaning closer to her.

"True." She agreed. "But I was a stranger who picked you up at a gay club after you were tripping on ecstasy and a stranger who let you sleep on my sofa even though you puked on my jacket." She recounted, casually pushing past Stuart and ignoring the heavy blush on his cheeks as she dropped her empty mug into the still steaming hot dish water. "This stranger is sending you japanese collectables and designer lingerie in hopes of getting laid, just because you think he might look fit. There's a big difference."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that." He mumbled, still fighting off the red in his cheeks and looking back down at the sink, so she wouldn't see just how right she was in his body language alone. "You don't have to rub it in."

"You know I'm just looking out for you, sweetie." She replied cheerfully, before walking back over to her stool at the breakfast bar, and picking up a black, faux fur jacket from the back of it. "Anyway, I gotta love you and leave you. Rooster called me earlier and told me he needs me downstairs for a few hours." She sighed irritably, pulling her jacket on. "Apparently they got someone in asking for a nipple piercing, and she'll only get it from a chick."

"Don't blame her." Stuart said, though most of his attention was on the washing up. "If I had to get a piercing from Rooster, I'd ask for a refund on my deposit." 

"Don't be mean about him, Stuart. Remember when he did one of your nipple piercings for free cus of that modelling gig you did for the shop." She said, throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

"Yeah, and now he won't stop calling me 'sweetheart!'" He snapped back at her as she crossed the flat to grab her keys from the counter. "I'm not even a woman and I feel harassed by him."

"See you later, yeah." Paula smiled, ignoring what he had said and wrapping her arms around Stuart's middle and kissing him on the cheek, sure to leave a stain on his skin from her lipstick, though he leaned into it happily. "Don't forget to get your package redelivered later, 'else we'll get charged for them holding it."

"I won't." He replied, turning back to the washing. "Give my love to the boys. And tell Rooster to stop texting me when he's drunk, I'm running out of phone memory cus of all of his dick pics."

"Will do. Don't do a sex stream in my room again or I'll cut your dick off."

"No promises."

"Have a good day, tosspot. Just downstairs if ya need anything!" She said, shouting over her shoulder.

“It’s Pot!” He shouted back as she left the flat, leaving Stuart to finish up the house chores and his other various errands by himself.

Nothing he liked better on days like this though.

-

It had taken a long phone call with a very annoyed post office worker and some vaguely worded threats (from her end, not his) but eventually Stuart managed to organize for his package to be delivered later that afternoon. No additional charges on top of the base import fee either, thankfully.

The package must have been big though, if the post office worker's word was to be trusted, bigger than anything else he had been sent yet. Which obviously raised a few concerned questions in Stuart's head, if whoever had sent the package even did it on purpose or if all of this was a mistake.  And if it was for him and it had been sent on purpose, if the sender was going to expect anything substantial (outside maybe a closer look at his ass compared to most people) in return. 

But despite all those concerns and questions, they were all weighed out by his excitement over such a big gift, barely a week before his birthday too. 

That can’t have been an accident. No way.

There was really nothing about this situation that he could comprehend in the slightest, and he had no ideas what might have been sent to him, especially since nothing (that remained) on his wish list could have possibly been big enough for the post office to complain about. Though he did have a few favours about who might have sent such an extravagant gift without any notice or any warning.

So he was excited. More excited than he usually was when it came to things like this.

Which probably was going to do him no favours at all, since he had a multitude of errands that he was supposed to run before the postman would be coming to deliver his package, but how could he? 

How could he do chores or taxes or think about when to do his next livestream or reply to emails or anything like that, when he had such a big present on the way? Something just for him to enjoy.

There was no way. Absolutely no way.

That's how he rationalised spending the entire day rewatching magical girl shows he'd seen a million times before, and tweeting excitedly about the entire thing anyway.

-

Stuart didn't even think about opening the package until Paula got home though.Wasn’t even a thought that entered his head.

Which must have looked very strange to see on her end.

When she unlocked the flat door, came in, nearing five in the evening after what must have been a busy shift from the way she flopped onto the sofa and tossed her keys away, Stuart had been sitting in the living space that they both shared. Cross legged, head in his hands. Just staring at the massive package, as if he couldn't believe what he was looking at.

Not in silence at the very least, since one of his shows was still quietly playing on the telly, but it was being essentially ignored because it seemed that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the box.

Paula joined him in the staring at the box for a few seconds, but clearly not in the amount of amazement that he was by a long shot.

"When did the postman come then?" She asked finally, looking at him, breaking his train of thought but managing to tear his eyes away from the box for at least a moment. 

"About an hour ago." He mumbled, adjusting his position a little, before going back to look at the package now that he had registered Paula's presence. 

"Have you done anything since then? You had chores you were gonna do, didn’t you?" She asked again, and he shrugged and shook his head. She let out a steady sigh from her nose, rubbing her face irritably and crossing her arms over her chest. "Have you even thought about opening it?"

"Not yet, no. I’ll do it eventually." He replied, with a little nod to himself, assuring himself.

She nodded as well, in response, repeating his words in a mumble to herself, before she stood up and quickly walked to the kitchen, taking up a little more of Stuart's attention and perking him up a little more, as he climbed over their sofas to see what she was doing. 

Opening one of the draws and fumbling in it for a few seconds, trying to find what she wanted, she brought out one of their larger, less used kitchen knives, brandishing it for a moment and staring at it, making sure it was perfect. Before she promptly made her way back into the living space and started to cut away the layers of packing tape that secured the cardboard box shut with reckless, and frankly dangerous, abandon.

"HEY WAIT, HANG ON!" Stuart near shouted the second he registered what she was doing, quickly jumping up to his feet and to the other side of the box, pulling it closer to himself protectively. "Don't open it yet!"

"I want to see what he got you!" She replied, in an excited sort of way that was rare for her and he knew it.

"Well, I don't want to yet." He said defensively, still clinging onto the box like a spoiled child, not letting her any where near it. "A-And you don't know it was him. Could have been anyone. Could have been my mum for all you know."

"Right." Resting her hands on her hips, the knife still threateningly brandished, Paula gave him a hard look. "Because someone else would definitely have bought you a, quite frankly, huge present barely a week before your birthday, after months of other gifts.” Gesturing somewhat with the knife in her hands, doing absolutely nothing to assure Stuart. “And your mum would have absolutely referred to you as ‘2D’ on the package too, despite her having no clue about your secret life as a porn star.” Glaring at him finally. “This is absolutely not the work of your sugar daddy. Of course not."

"Your sarcasm is by no means lost on me, Polly." Stuart replied with an equally hard glare, though he could in no way deny that she was probably right. 

Right about this guy probably being a sugar daddy by this point too. Even though he hadn't asked for any sugar quite yet.

"Fine. You open it then." She said after a moment or two of silence, offering him the knife like a gesture of semi-morbid friendship. "But I wanna see what it is too."

"Yeah, but...I-I mean, what if I don't like it?" Stuart sat back down on the sofa, still looking at this package and the torn open tape, as if he could see what was inside just from that. "And maybe he doesn't know me like I thought he did."

"That's a pretty weak excuse, even for you, Pot." Paula replied, sitting with him and setting the knife down on top of the box, though she seemed to have calmed down from her own excitement a little.

"You know I didn't ask for this, right. This, I mean." Stuart gestured at the package. "Not, like, in general.” Head in his hands again, fingers buried in his hair. “It could be anything. Could be something crap or...I dunno, creepy. Like a weird sex toy.”

“Dunno why you’d complain about that.” Paula said, just loud enough for him to hear but not to acknowledge. 

“I don't even have any kind of expectation!” He said finally, his arms raised in almost shock before folding in on himself again “And just a load of shit to compare it to."

"Well." She started thoughtfully, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in closer to her, in the motherly kind of way she hated to be compared to. "Doesn't having no expectations mean you can't be let down?"

"I don't want there to even be a possibility of being let down." He mumbled, resting his head against her chest, letting out a long sigh and tucking his knees up to his chest. "Not by him, anyway."

Paula said nothing and just scratched at his head slowly, in a way that she knew he liked and calmed him down when he was overwhelmed in this sort of way. He just hoped that if she couldn't relate to his problem, she could at least empathize a little.

But she was good at that. 

"Okay. How about this. What do you hope it is?" She asked, after a few minutes of silence between the two of them, still scratching his scalp. "If you could have anything, no limitations, no issue of money, what would you ask for?"

Stuart was quiet for a second, just leaning into her soft touch, her soft scent, comforted and quiet inside his own head. 

"A piano." He said, finally. "Or a keyboard. A big, professional one, not a little dinky one, but one that’s, like, me, ya know." He continued, sitting up and looking at her, almost excitedly now that he was thinking about it. "One where you look at it and ya think 'Ah! Yeah, that belongs to Stu. That's his.'" Smiling to himself again. "That's what I'd want."

"So, go into it expecting that. No way ya can be let down then, right?" She replied, matching his smile and just hoping that he might go along with it.

Stuart didn't really question the logistics of what she said, or how it made any sense, but he seemed to be convinced anyway.

He sat up against the sofa, took the knife that Paula had been using to so feverishly cut through the tape before, and set to finishing the job for her while she watched in full interest. 

There was a lot to cut through since there were multiple layers upon layers upon layers of packaging tape over the thick cardboard, and even more sealing each end of the box shut, clearly making sure that what it was holding was secure and safe. But he got through it all eventually and with a lot of mess to clean up after. 

Another box lay underneath it all, though much lighter, white, and not sealed with any tape at all. A single gold stamp embossed on the top, a seal of approval and a number.

23/100

Stuart looked over at Paula for a few seconds, trying to gauge her reaction and gauge what her reaction might be, though her look alone was encouraging him to open the fucking box already.

Gathering up enough of his courage and letting out a steady breath, he pried off the lid and removed the sparkling gold and baby blue tissue paper inside the box that concealed what it really held.

Underneath the tissue paper was, in fact, a piano keyboard, just as Stuart had hoped for.

But somehow, the mystery sender had managed to make such a careless gesture even more perfect, in ways that he couldn’t have even imagined.

It wasn’t a cheap piano, by any means, and it wasn’t something that someone could have bought as a careless whim. The thing was proper, professional grade, eighty eight black and white keys laid out in the way that he was so used to and comforted by, just by looking at it, just by running his fingers over the keys. And not a synth either, but a real, genuine piano that very few people actually recognized these days.

Too big for the flat, probably, and too big for him to find any sort of space for, but big enough that whoever had bought knew that he was, in least in his (and their) eyes, worthy of a professional grade instrument. 

Because he knew what he was doing and they knew that much about him. 

Just that would have been enough. Just that would have (and already had) reduced him to a quicker heart rate, quicker breathing, and barely there tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Not only that though, but the thick plastic casing of the keyboard was a pale, glittery baby pink that was semi-opaque, so Stuart was able to see the inside of the instrument. Allowing him to recognise all the familiar components that he was so accustomed to after years of feverish keyboard modification and repair in his late teens, underneath golden stars and rainbow flecks of glitter in the plastic. 

Finally, at the top left hand of the keyboard, there was an embossing of the ‘Sailor Moon 25th Anniversary’ logo in a glittering gold that couldn't have been anything other than genuine.

"Holy fuck." Paula said, awestruck from her spot on the sofa. "This dude really likes you." 

Stuart could only stare down at the piano, still frantically trying to work out everything in his head. Clutching his fingers together, he tried to recount if there was ever a time where he relayed so many facts about himself in a stream, so someone would know all this stuff about him and known that a gift like this would have been perfect for him.

He almost cried when he couldn't remember ever doing that. That this nameless stranger just seemed to know, without even being told about it.

It was almost overwhelming.

Almost.

-

(18:44) zombieprettyboy: you need to talk to me. im not going to let you be all mysterious and leave me in the dark about everything.

(18:50) zombieprettyboy: HEY!!! I KNOW YOU'RE ONLINE >:(

(19:02) hailsatan666: What's wrong?   
(19:03) zombieprettyboy: you sent me the piano didn't you???

(19:15) zombieprettyboy: answer me!

(19:16) hailsatan666: So what if I did?

(19:18) zombieprettyboy: you don't know me. why did you get me something like that??

(19:19) hailsatan666: Because it's your birthday and I wanted to get you something nice.

(19:22) zombieprettyboy: but you don't know me. i'm not your boyfriend or your friend or anything like that, i'm just a camboy you wank to

(19:22) zombieprettyboy: i'm sorry i don’t want to be ungratful

(19:23) zombieprettyboy: but you didn't have to do that. you've done enough for me

(19:24) zombieprettyboy: it's too much. it doesn't feel right

(19:30) hailsatan666: I want you to keep it.

(19:34) hailsatan666: If you want me to stop, and to interacting with you or coming to your streams, that's fine. I'll do that.

(19:35) hailsatan666: But please keep the piano. I want you to have it.

(19:40) zombieprettyboy: my name's stuart, by the way

(19:41) hailsatan666: ???

(19:45) zombieprettyboy: stuart pot. my friends used to call me tosspot in school.

(19:46) hailsatan666: Haha :)

(19:50) zombieprettyboy: i don't want you to go away or anything like that. i just want to make it up to you properly. can i have your skype? maybe we could have a call tonight and just. see what happens?

(20:00) hailsatan666: MN666

(20:01) zombieprettyboy: thank you

(20:05) hailsatan666: And my name's Murdoc. Niccals. Only fair I tell you mine since I know your's now.

(20:06) zombieprettyboy: hi murdoc <3

(20:07) hailsatan666: Hi Stu <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really have no excuse for how long this took me. depression. school. general writers block? i don't know but i'm trying to get on the writing horse again
> 
> i'm not adding any more tags or updating the summery, cus it's just more of this shit, right? right. soon i will be done with this mini fic. soon.
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com  
> ray x


	10. Moon Prism Power [PART 4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 16 + 17: sex work + lingerie  
> third person, from 2D’s perspective, alternative universe, part four of four, daddy kink lmao

"So what do you do if he starts being a creep?"

"Unless I'm into it, I give him a warning, and if he does it again, I block him."

"Right answer, but why would you be into it?"

"I'm not asking for your judgement, Polly."

As much as he would have adamantly denied it, it had barely taken ten minutes after the first conversation for Stuart to get abnormally overwhelmed and panicked, just at the idea of finally having a one-to-one, practically face-to-face conversation with a man he'd been fantasising about for nearing three months. 

He and hailsatan666, or Murdoc, since he now had an actual name to be referred to as, had agreed to start the skype call at around half ten in the evening, since Murdoc's housemates would be asleep by then and he wouldn't have to worry about disturbing anyone. 

And Stuart had initially and eagerly agreed, though he didn't have to worry about housemates himself, but now that it was actually nearing closer and closer to the time they agreed on, he was starting to panic. 

And starting to care about things he rarely did care about, like aesthetics and wardrobe choices. 

Particularly when he knew that his and Murdoc’s ideal aesthetic choices didn’t exactly match up that much. And he only knew one person that he could turn to when he was fretting this much about something so arbitrary. 

"You know that he's not gonna give a shit what you look like, right?" Paula asked from her bed, looking up from a fetish magazine while Stuart sifted through her heaving wardrobe, trying to find something that would fit him, something that Murdoc might like. Lying back against her headboard, her gaze occasionally flicked from the magazine and her fretting flatmate. "You could probably wear pyjamas and he'd still get horny over it."

"I wanna wear something he'll like though." He replied earnestly, pulling out a pair of red tartan trousers (complete with a bondage belt that he didn't question) and holding it next to his waist in comparison. "I think he likes punky shit like this. I wanna impress him."

"He goes to your livestreams though, doesn't he? Shouldn't he like the stuff you usually wear?" Smirking privately to herself as she turned the page of her magazine. "Thought he liked you looking like a doll." 

"I dunno if that's his thing, actually." He mumbled, his eyebrows knit together with worry, pulling a face when he looked at himself in her mirror, and residing to put the trousers away again, despite how much he liked them. "He never seemed that fussed about all that dolly stuff I do sometimes. Pretty sure it was some of the few times he wouldn't tip that much in a stream." Sifting through again. "'Course he did always tip though. God, maybe he does like it."

"Compared to the rest of your customers, that almost makes him sound like a weirdo." Paula mused, looking over at him again as she turned onto another page. "Then again, doesn't really compare to that guy that asked you to hump a teddy bear in that romper you have, does it? That was an actual weirdo."

"Don't bloody remind me." Stuart groaned, taking out a heavily buckled, black leather skirt and holding it up. Being interested enough to untie his joggers and slide them down in order to try it on properly. "Still, that paid for about two months rent. Even more when I put it up on my website. Though I still get people asking me if I'm into that kinda shit." He tugged the skirt up around his waist and zipped it closed, smiling to himself in the mirror. "Maybe this'll get the message across."

He had a couple of old band shirts for old bands from his teenage years that would have matched the skirt perfectly, and fishnet stockings would have probably pulled it all together for the look he was hoping for.

Just the right amount of edge that would counteract his toys and pastel pink background, as well as any pre-established thoughts Murdoc might have had for him as being soft and sensitive and easily exploitable.

Perfect.

"So you wanna look more hardcore so there's no chance that he'll think you're into calling people 'Daddy' and pretending to be a five year old." Paula asked, an eyebrow elegantly raised.

"Yeah, essentially." He replied cheerfully, hands on his hips. "I don't mind calling him 'Daddy' though, if he asks me to."

"This is literally the reason I'm a lesbian." She said with a groan, turning back to her magazine.

-

Stuart was logged onto his computer twenty minutes before he was supposed to have the video call with Murdoc.

He was well prepared for all of this though. His room has been quickly cleaned and gone over with a hoover, just in case, he had been fed so there wouldn't have been any chance of passing out mid-video call because of exhaustion, and he'd gotten changed into the outfit that he believed Murdoc would like the most at a first glance. 

Paula had even established a safe word between the two of them, something Stuart could shout out if he was in a bad position so she could cut out the Wi-Fi and get him into a safe state of mind again. 

But despite all of his hard work and preparations, his nerves were beginning to get the best of him as he watched the clock in the corner of his screen slowly (and incredibly slowly) countdown to ten thirty.

He tried to distract himself by going through his social media platforms and idly chatting with curious anonymous users and semi-friends that were interested in what he had been posting about for the last few hours. 

But even with those well meaning distractions, he couldn't help but just look at his skype contacts box and wait for Murdoc's display icon to go green, and for them to finally start talking.

He was almost certain that he was going to throw up when his clock finally read ten thirty, and Murdoc's icon went green. One hundred percent certain.

In fact, he had to run to his en suite and heave into his toilet for a good two minutes, just so there wasn't a chance of him accidently puking on camera and damaging or staining something.

Then again, maybe Murdoc would have been into that, and he should save it for the call.

 

(22:30) MN666 is online.   
  


(22:31) MN666: Hey, you about?   
(22:35) twodee: haha sorry i was puking ^_^;

(22:36) MN666: Shit, are you sick?

(22:38) MN666: Do you need to reschedule or anything, cus I don't mind   
(22:39) twodee: no no i'm fine!   
(22:40) twodee: i just get pukey sometimes, it's not a big deal XD

(22:43) MN666: Are you sure? Don't want you being sick in the middle of our call or anything, haha

(22:45) twodee: maybe you'll be into it ;)

(22:46) twodee: but i promise i won't puke or anything

(22:48) MN666: Haha, okay.

(22:50) twodee: i'll call you, my internet is awesome LOL

 

(22:51) twodee started a video call. 

 

“How’s that? Can ya see me alright?” Stuart asked, clutching his fingers together nervously off of the camera, trying not to be self conscious of how he looked on the his tiny camera display and waiting for Murdoc’s side of the call to connect properly.

Of course, while Stuart had been hoping for the best, he didn't expect it in the slightest. 

He expected what he was used to getting, the normal guys who paid him a little too much attention because they were getting none of their own and who were willing to shell out a little extra for some one-on-one time. And it wasn’t like he didn’t judged that kind of guy at all, no, he didn’t mind or care, and that’s the way it was, since he saw himself as a professional around things like this. 

He just hoped that maybe one day, if he was extra good on High Holy Days and did all his chores, he’d get someone that suited his tastes a little more. Especially when he was sort of heads over heels in love with someone he hadn’t even seen the face of yet.

But this guy, Murdoc Niccals, his name was, was just so different from his 'normal'. And that was something that Stuart recognised the second his camera connected to the call.

“Yeah, I can see you just fine.”

He was...so handsome. Really handsome, actually. 

A kind of handsome that made people do comedic double takes and stare for a little bit longer than they should if they weren't expecting it. And Stuart was by no means expecting it at all.

To be fair, the camera quality wasn't the best and the room didn’t have that great lighting, but it was good enough that Stuart could make out every important detail of his mystery crush (if he could be called that anymore.) 

Black hair that perfectly complimented his brown skin, a slight discolouration in his left eye compared to his right that gave him the right sort of punky edge that made so much sense in combination with his personality (thought it might not have been the most appropriate look for a youth worker). His dark brows knit together as he looked at his screen, as if he was waiting for something himself, his head almost elegantly rested in his hand lazily (how he managed to be both elegant and lazy, Stuart didn’t know.) 

A barely there, almost seductive smirk growing on his lips as soon as everything was connected, as if he had caught Stuart staring (which was, to be fair, what he was doing, and he was doing a lot of it). 

Teasing, in the nice sort of way. The way that Stuart really liked and he hadn’t gotten in quite a while.

He did look older though, which was what Stuart was anticipating (since most people in their twenties didn't exactly have the kind of income where they could afford to spoil a stranger on the internet) but he really didn't care all that much. 

If anything, it just made Murdoc that much more attractive to him. He didn’t really know why, nor did he want to question the psychology behind his little age difference kink. Maybe it was a security thing.

Over all of that though, Stuart just liked that a gap between them had been bridged now, at least a little bit. Maybe because it didn’t feel so much like there was a power imbalance there, with Stuart being cutely-clueless about him, but Murdoc knowing everything there was to know about Stuart. 

Now he at least knew who he was talking to, and maybe he could learn a little more about this mystery guy, outside of him being a youth worker and liking the Misfits more than most people do.

Maybe he could get to know him, actually establish a connection and properly thank him for everything he had done as close to in-person that he was going to manage on short notice.

"What's that look for then?" Murdoc then asked, jolting Stuart out of his train of thought, his smirk quirking into more of an amused smile at Stuart's expense. "Am I what you were expecting?"

Despite how crackly his microphone was, he had a nice twang to his voice that Stuart liked. Not posh exactly, but more articulate than some of the people he knew (though that wasn't exactly hard, despite his London postcode.) But it was smooth and deep and pleasant to listen to, and made something inside him shiver when he combined it with  _ that look _ .

"No...I-I mean, not really, but..." Stuart mumbled, his tongue feeling heavy in his skull and fully aware of how much he was stumbling on his words. “You’re, um...really...wow.” He finished with a dopey smile at his expense, that made Murdoc laugh, (and god, he was even handsome when he laughed.)

“Can’t say I’ve ever gotten that kind of response before.” He replied, scratching his stubble-covered cheek idly with pointed black painted fingernails. “But I appreciate it, nevertheless.”

“Hard t’believe that.” Stuart said, well aware that he probably sounded ridiculously loved up already, and mumbling all over the place when he couldn’t stop staring. “Hi...by the way. Nice t’finally put a face to a name.”

“Hello to you too.”

Murdoc didn’t seem to mind it though. If anything, he was enjoying it.

"So." Murdoc started, interlacing his fingers together and resting his chin on his hands. Looking almost like a professional at a business meeting. "How do these things usually go then? I can't say I've ever done this before, so I have no point of reference."

"Well, er." He began, idly rubbing his chin in thought. "It all depends on you, I s'pose." Crossing his legs underneath him, getting more comfortable. "We could just...er, get to what you paid for, I suppose." He could feel his face flush a little, but his wording made Murdoc chuckle. "Or we could talk for a bit, if you want. We have plenty to talk about, after all." Smiling up at his camera, hoping that he was sounding at the very least a bit professional, and not letting his very obvious crush get the best of him.

Even though it was incredibly obvious, and he could even feel a semi stirring underneath his underwear already, just from looking at the guy.

"I like the idea of talking for a bit." Murdoc replied with a calming smile that seemed to settle Stuart just by looking at it. "I dunno if this is weird for you, or anything like that, but I don't want you to think about 'what I'm paying for'." Adding in the air quotes gesture, only adding to the plethora of gestures he already did as he spoke. Sort of endearing in a way. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, alright? We don't even have to get...ya know, like that, if you don't want to."

"But what if that's what I want to do?" Stuart asked, his head slightly tilted in a pseudo-innocent look that always got him the best kind of attention. "I can talk all you want, but...I do this because I like it. Because I want it. And I asked to call with you so I could get what I want."

"Well, I'll do anything you like then." Murdoc said, an almost sleazy, but unbelievably attractive smirk replacing his calm smile "But how about you stand up first, and show me how pretty you look tonight, doll. Then we can see where that takes us, eh?"

Just the phrasing of the simple request (and the filthy nickname finally said out loud) made Stuart's semi harden into something a little harder to ignore, and he couldn't help but let that be obvious in the way his face instantly flushed up, but he did as he was told without question. 

He quickly moved his laptop so it was facing away from his heavily decorated headboard and to where he could easily stand up and give Murdoc a full body shot of the outfit he had so diligently picked out just for him barely an hour before their call.

"Wow. Don't you look lovely." Murdoc said through the laptop speaker the second he got a good look at it, in a complementary and encouraging kind of way that got to Stuart even more. 

Thank god the skirt was so tight and hid any telltale sounds of premature arousal. Or else any kind of professionalism he was trying to maintain would have gone out of the window entirely. 

"Very different though." He continued, sounding almost amused. "Like you're about to go to a metal show or something. Proper mosh pit ready, eh?" Chuckling to himself. "Not how you dress in your streams normally, is it?"

"Nah, thought I'd do something different. Borrowed the skirt from my flatmate." Stuart replied, his voice chirpy and cheerful and definitely not turned out as fuck, as he turned around to show off the skirt properly (and to show just how well it complimented some of his assets too.) "Everything else is mine though, even if some of it is as old as I am. Think these boots were my dad's actually." Cocking his leg up to show off his fishnets and aforementioned and incredibly old (but well looked after and polished, just for tonight) army boots a little better to the camera. "I, er...I wanted to dress up special for you."

"Well, aren't you a sweetheart." He grinned, resting his cheek in his hand, fingers through his hair. "Reckon I can get a peek at what's underneath as well, or are y'gonna save that for a bit later?"

"I thought you wanted to talk for a bit first." Stuart smiled himself as he sat back down on his bed, shifting the laptop back into position as he spoke. "Don't wanna give everything away too early now, do I?" He stuck his tongue out cheekily, but raised his knee up to his chin so his legs were spread. Just so the skirt was hitched up a little higher than usual and showed up a lot more thigh, and the slight bulge in the gusset of his panties.

"Right, right, of course." Murdoc replied, sitting back in his office chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Shaking his head (probably at himself for wanting to establish a connection first before he got a look at the goods.) "What would you like t'talk about?"

"Well..." Stuart said, fiddling with one of his earrings as he thought. Thinking back to the piano, wrapped up and elegant in his living room and considering just how much Murdoc already knew about him despite them never talking like this before tonight. "Since you know so much about me already, can I know some stuff about you?"

"Of course." His eyebrows quirked a little under his fringe in amusement. "What would you like t'know?"

"How old are you?" Stuart asked, and the second he asked it, he could see Murdoc cringe a little, his face pulled into a grimace as he leaned back into the proper shot of the camera.

"How old do you think I am?" Murdoc asked back, which made Stuart instinctively chew at his thumb nail nervously, hoping he wouldn't say something that would offend someone he was just getting to know.

"Er...thirty...five?" He suggested, hoping that maybe he was right or he had guessed too young and he was actually giving a compliment rather than an insult.

"Very close." Murdoc replied, though his grimace became more of an amused smile of relief again. "Thirty seven. Thirty eight in a few weeks though."

"I was only two years off, that absolutely counts!" Stuart insisted, which made Murdoc laugh again (really, he was just trying to make the older man do that as much as he could. It was nice.) "You look good for it though. I would have guessed younger, but-"

"Nah, I know I look like I'm in my forties already, don't need to compliment me." Murdoc interrupted, though he didn't seem that irritated or annoyed. "Have done since I was twenty five. Way I see it though, I get to my forties and just don't age from there. I look like I'm forty one until the day I die, that's the way to do it."

"Aw, mate, wish I could do that." Stuart said, changing his position to something a little more comfortable (but still showed off the goods in a naive kind of way that was actually well thought out.) "I think I'm like that in my brain though. Still feels like I'm twenty one sometimes."

"You'll grow out of that when you have to pay a mortgage, trust me." Murdoc chided which made Stuart giggle, despite not really knowing what he was talking about.

"I'm just gonna live in flats until I die." He replied, and Murdoc nodded in approval. "Thought you had housemates though. You all pay for the mortgage?"

"Yeah, basically. I used to be in a band when I was younger, and two of my band mates got married." Murdoc idly fiddled with a cross hanging from his neck as he spoke. Must have been instinctive since he did it a lot. "They needed someone living in the UK to guarantee their mortgage, and I was a cheeky little shit ten years ago, and only agreed to help if they let me live there too." Chuckling to himself and shaking his head. "But now their kid calls me her uncle, so they can't kick me out, even if they wanted to."

"Uncle Murdoc?" Stuart said with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

"See, it just sounds weird when someone says it out loud." Murdoc replied, but that just made Stuart laugh, which in turn made Murdoc laugh in response. "Good kid though. She's a little devil, but a sweetheart at the end of the day." Smiling to himself, obviously just from thinking about her. "Love her like she was my own. Which she kind of is, but, ya know."

"What's her name?" Stuart asked, suddenly interested.

"I call her Noodle enough that it may as well be her birth name." Resting his arm on his desk in a slightly more relaxed way. "She caught me lookin' at your wishlist once, actually. Saw all the Sailor Moon stuff and was convinced I was getting her a present or something."

"She likes Sailor Moon too?" He blurted out quickly, not at all embarrassed in the way he instantly perked up. Made Murdoc laugh, at the very least.

"Yeah, she loves that kind of stuff." He said, nodding along. "Her favourite show's Powerpuff Girls, but she likes Sailor Moon enough that she assumed I was lookin' at shit for her." Smirking again. "Gonna be well disappointed with her birthday presents at this rate."

"Least you know what to look for if she does ask for something like that." Stuart offered hopefully, to which Murdoc nodded in agreement. "I could always help you find something special as well." Again, not at all embarrassed about how eager he was about this subject. "Really, I could! I know where to find all the rare stuff too, I bet that would really impress her."

 

"You're sweet." Murdoc said, with a look that Stuart recognised the second that he saw it. "But shouldn't I buy you a dinner first, before you start planning birthday gifts for my kid?" A tone to his voice that Stuart couldn't ignore, or brush off as accidental.

"You could do something else for me first, if you wanted to." Stuart replied, with a similar tone to his own voice, just to make sure that the two of them knew they were on the same page.

"Reckon you could give me a look at what's underneath that skirt now, doll?"

Stuart could feel himself shiver with delight just from the instruction that settled into his brain. 

And god, that fucking nickname was going to be the death of him. Considering he had been convinced that Murdoc was by no means interested in that little kink of his, the older man seemed more than happy to indulge the freakier parts of Stuart's psyche that adored the very idea of being treated like that.

Like a doll. 

There was no way he could do anything other than do as he was told, as he knelt up on his bed and started to unbuckle the belt of the skirt.

Murdoc watched, with a causal interest that was already doing wonders in driving Stuart absolutely wild, even if it was over the internet and he wasn’t there like he wanted him to be. The slightly quirked eyebrows, the barely there smirk on his face. His skin so dark that he couldn't even see a flush on his cheeks, if there was one even there. 

Despite wanting there to be less of a power imbalance between the two of them, Stuart couldn't deny that he still loved the idea of being left clueless about Murdoc, while he was so transparent about everything, especially his arousal. 

Even more transparent when he managed to kick away the leather skirt, and he was able to show off his aching hard dick, already dripping underneath his white, silky panties, pre-cum already staining the delicate fabric.

"How'd you know those were my favourite?" Murdoc asked, his voice low and quiet, almost seductive. Looking at his computer with half lidded eyes.

"They were the first ones you bought me." Stuart replied, smiling despite how much he was biting his lip (instinctual, not at all on purpose). Rubbing himself slowly through his panties, the silk already doing wonders in stimulating him even more. “They’re my favourite ones too.”

The silky panties were generously loose on him which made for a lovely image of his dick tenting the front, hiding absolutely nothing from Murdoc. Allowed him to touch himself much easier too, without the unnecessary constrictions of other lingerie or expensive latex boy shorts he owned, which was always a plus. 

As Stuart loosely gripped himself through the silky panties, properly showing himself off for the camera, Murdoc couldn't help but let out a soft groan just watching him. Stuttering a little in his seat, and covering his mouth quickly with his knuckle so he didn't let out anymore sound.

Which was a shame, since they were absolutely lovely sounds while they lasted.

"You have any idea how fucking perfect y'look right now?" Murdoc's voice dipped into a slight, and almost bordering animalistic, growl, as he stared at his screen with half lidded eyes. One of his hands conspicuously out of shot.

"Of course I do." Stuart smiled cheekily as he sat on his knees and reached up to remove his shirt, flinging it off his bed to join the skirt on the floor. Showing off the skimpy little bralette that went with the panties and garter belt set, and left nothing at all to the imagination. "I don't mind if you tell me though." 

Murdoc watched hungrily as Stuart stripped down for him even more, a genuine if somewhat subtle desperation in his eyes that Stuart couldn't help but enjoy a little. Just experiencing a fleeting feeling like maybe he had a bit more power in this situation than he usually did. 

"Can you tell me how pretty I look?" Stuart asked, phrasing his question almost innocently, his empty eyes big and wide as he shifted the front of the loose panties to the side and finally gripped his bare, dripping dick, after what felt like ages of toying with himself. "I wanna hear you say it. It'll feel even better if I can hear you."

"You're beautiful." Murdoc near whimpered, practically on command, his hazy eyes glued to his screen as Stuart started to lazily jerk off, hips slightly bucking in time with his tortuously slow (on both him and Murdoc) wrist movements. "You're so fucking beautiful, Stu. Like an angel." Letting out a shaky little sigh. "Prettiest thing I've seen in my life."

"God, don't you know just what to say..." Stuart giggled softly, watching his own screen as he tried to work out if Murdoc was touching himself yet or not. 

His position hadn't changed, though one hand was off camera, and his breathing was a little more ragged than it had been before. His voice was huskier, more drawn out, more desperate as he took in everything. Biting his lip with surprisingly sharp teeth that made Stuart think...of things.

"Are you touching yourself?" Stuart asked again, as innocent as ever, but he laughed when Murdoc's face flushed darker (noticeably darker, too) and he sat up a little in surprise. "Don't be so surprised, I want you to do that, you know?" Gripping himself a little tighter. "I'd be doing a pretty shit job if you weren't touching yourself by now." 

"Wanted t'try and wait it out a bit." Murdoc said, chuckling lightly in spite of himself, but returning to business despite any prior embarrassment. "Try an' see how long I could last but...when you're lookin' like that...gets a bit difficult."

"Too much?" Stuart smirked subtly, running his thumb over the head of his dick, taking full advantage of his decreased sensitivity but of how fucking good it looked on camera. "Ain't I a naughty boy then?"

"That depends." His voice dipped into a low threatening growl again, and any kind of cockiness Stuart might have had was instantly replaced by heavy arousal and an overwhelming desire to succumb to submission again. "Do you want me to treat you like you're a naughty boy?"

Stuart could only nod helplessly in silence, his hand suddenly stilled. 

Enjoying the little pang of fear he got when Murdoc smirked like an absolute villian, just a little too much for it to be a coincidence.

"Of course you do." God, that fucking voice. "I bet a pretty boy like you has never been punished in his life. You're used to everyone treating you like you're so perfect, aren't you? Walkin' all over people, to get what you want, right?" 

Had Stuart not been blissed out of his fucking mind on pure, brain meltingly good arousal, he might have considered telling Murdoc to get in the business as a professional dom, but all he could do was nod along, whimpering slurred words in response and just hoping he made any kind of sense.

Not that he needed to, of course.

"That's why you need someone to be rough on you. What do naughty boys like you deserve when they misbehave, hm?" Not an actual question, of course. "I think they deserve to be bent over someone's knee and spanked, 'til their arses are red and their pretty little dicks are dripping. Whimpering a bit but not wanting it to stop, cus it feels so nice. Bet you'd like that, getting all wound up first, wouldn't you?"

Nodding along again, his eyes barely open but enough that he could watch as Murdoc's camera shifted slightly and he sat back in his office chair, and his dick (dark brown, beautifully thick, even a hoop piercing the top) finally came into view. His fingers (even his fucking hands were attractive) gripping himself tight and the muscles in his hand tensing up slightly as he jerked himself slowly, his foreskin pulled back to show off a dripping, sticky slit and head, neglected of any kind of attention.

His mouth watered just from looking at it.

"Naughty boys don't get to cum though, do they? Even when their pretty, slutty holes get fucked open, so much they can't even think, they have to hold everything in. Bet you won't be able to cope with that, would you? Not being able to cum before Daddy said it was okay first."

The amount of self control it took for Stuart to not instantly ejaculate all over his laptop screen should have won an award of some kind. 

He must have looked that way too, from the way that Murdoc snickered, clearly oh-so-proud of himself for managing to get under Stuart's skin so quickly. He wondered for a moment if maybe he should pop a cock ring on, just in an attempt to stave off his inevitable orgasm, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He didn't want to risk a chance of missing out on anything. 

But he didn't stop touching himself, though his pace had significantly slowed down to an irregular and messy pace, almost in bewilderment as to what he just heard and how much it was turning him on.

"You like it when Daddy watches you touch your dick? Lookin' all pretty like that too. Almost makes up for you being such a naughty boy."

Stuart let out a shuddering breath that he didn't know he was holding, biting down on his lip as his grip on himself tightened just slightly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded with a soft but drawn out moan, feeling his fingers shake as he built up his regular pace again. 

"Bit weird, actually. Never really been into that kinda thing before." Stuart mumbled, giggling sleepily a little in spite of himself. "Funny how good you're doing at convincing me otherwise, Daddy." Looking down at his laptop screen with half lidded eyes as he coyly tucked a trailing strand of hair behind his ear, his lips quirked in the kind of smile that always drove guys wild. 

And from the look on his face, Murdoc was no exception. Any of his cocky dom attitude quickly overwhelmed just from hearing Stuart say something so objectively filthy, though his attention to his own dick hadn't relented at all.

"Oh...do you like it when I say it, Daddy?" Stuart continued, keeping the jerks of his wrist slow, methodical, hips just barely rocking and keeping all of his eye contact with Murdoc. Teasing him without even considering himself "You like it when I call you that, don't you?" Biting his lip again as he rocked his hips into his tight grip. "Do you wanna hear how much I want you to fuck me, Daddy? How much I want your dick that I can barely think about anythin' else?"

"Sounds about right to me." Murdoc added, an amused smirk quickly spreading on his face as he eyed Stuart up, watching him intently on his computer screen. "Pretty boys like you don't have to think about anything else, do they? Y'can always get someone else to do the rest of your thinking for you, right?"

"Wouldn't want it any other way." Stuart replied with a doped up grin of his own. 

"So, since you can't think for yourself then...do you reckon you could find a nice big toy for that pretty little ass of your's?" Murdoc phrased almost casually, sounding almost innocuous if he wasn't jerking off in the bottom of the screen. "Just so Daddy can see how perfect you look when you're getting fucked."

"Oh I know exactly where my favourite one is!" Stuart said brightly as soon as Murdoc's instruction was received, quickly moving up his bed and to his bedside table (speedy despite his raging hard-on), where his favourite, most frequently used and largest dildo was stashed away for special occasions such as this. 

It was far less aesthetically pleasing than his other toys, yes,and wouldn’t have been exactly appropriate for his more work-friendly scenes, but it definitely felt the best and did the best job when he just needed to get fucked silly without having to worry about his aesthetic and his image to maintain

"I'd ask if you could actually take it, but I have no doubt that it's the absolute perfect size for a filthy boy like you." Murdoc half mumbled with a sleazy grin, probably too far gone himself to actually care that much, as he looked at Stuart brandishing the absurdly big toy. 

"Takes gettin' used to, but it's my favourite one." Stuart's tone of voice was almost cheerful as he started to prep the toy (with a condom and plenty of lube, just to be safe) with a level of professionalism that was almost funny. "Sometimes on the good days, I don't even need to prep myself before I take it. That stretched out, I suppose."

"I'd say words that dirty don't sound right comin' outta someone so cute." Murdoc replied, regaining his composure a little and leaning against his desk. Hand still on his dick though. "But that would imply you're not a dirty little slut who loves showing off for the camera, wouldn't it?"

"You know me so well already, don't you." Stuart grinned to the camera, before he lay back on his bed and dragged his panties to the side, exposing his ass.

Now he was a professional, at this point. He'd done this exact same position enough times on camera and on his livestreams to know the best angles that were comfortable for him, and the best positions that complimented his assets the best, captured his more unsightly body parts in a more flattering way. And he knew how to rub lube over and into his ass in a way that looked hot, that captured his audience, in a way that didn't even look like preparation and more like an extended version of his own teasing foreplay.

So when he slowly eased the tip of the toy into himself, and his back arched so much that he could push it even deeper without moving his wrist, groaning even louder, those movements themselves had been so practiced that they were almost scripted at this point.

Still felt heavenly though, especially in combination with a particularly handsome and eager to please client who was drooling just watching all of this unfold. Knowing that he should feel almost privileged to watch such a private moment.

Stuart took a few mostly silent minutes to push the toy in and out of himself while he was still on his back, and in the most comfortable position to take and get used to such an extreme toy. But the second that it felt remotely comfortable inside of him, he was back on his knees again, thighs spread, his underwear doing absolutely nothing to hide anything anymore.

Looking at Murdoc and how he was just staring at his screen in awe, not even touching himself anymore when he just needed to watch for a few moments.

Stuart grinned shakily as he slowly started to bounce on the toy, riding it like he would ride anyone else. Imagining in his head that he was riding that gorgeously thick, pierced dick that he couldn't stop staring at and gripping his bedsheets in a weak effort to stop touching himself so much, and pushing himself even closer to his dreaded climax.

"You know, I kind of hoped that this would happen eventually. This exact situation too." Stuart started, not even slightly embarrassed from how much his voice was shaking and stuttering as he rode the toy. "You watching me like this, but me actually being able to watch you too." Chuckling, almost deliriously, and tucking his hair behind his ear so it wouldn't stick to his sweat slicked forehead. "Would be better if this was your dick I was riding though, wouldn't it? Bet it'd feel like absolute heaven."

"You can pretend, can't you? Got a good imagination." Murdoc asked, that familiar hard edge to his voice that somehow pushed Stuart so much closer to his peak. Jerking off slowly again, but edging closer to his desk so it was harder to see everything the way that Stuart wanted to. "So pretend for me. Tell me how good it feels. Taking my dick up that pretty little hole of your's, hm? Wanna hear all of it."

"So fucking good." Stuart managed to stutter out, his eyes squeezed shut again as he focused entirely on the feeling of the toy in his ass and pretending that it might have felt even remotely like how Murdoc might have felt. Despite the lack of warmth, the lack of hands on all the parts he needed, his breath on his skin. Focusing on the sound of his voice and just how much it really affected him. "Y-You feel so good, Daddy. So perfect in...inside me. So...god, fuck, so fucking good."

"Such a tight little arse. Thought you'd be way more stretched out than this, but ya still manage to surprise me, eh?" Murdoc let out a dirty chuckle, tipping his head back against his office chair, clearly just as blissed out as Stuart was, and too close to climax to care that they weren't even in the same room, let alone entangled in each other, despite how much they desperately wanted to be. "Dunno how you still look so pretty when you're getting fucked, doll. But fuck me, you look gorgeous."

"Prettiest when I'm getting fucked, right?" 

"Only marginally. Dunno how I'd even get anything done if I had your pretty little arse anywhere nearby. You somehow manage to look better every time I look at you."

For some reason, Stuart's face felt hotter for something other than arousal.

"Even when you're about to cum, you look like an angel." His panting was faster, breathing more ragged. "You getting close, doll?" His pace was getting more unsteady was every word he said. "Feels like I'm about to explode. Y'drive me fucking crazy." His face flushed, his lips parted, tongue almost slack if he wasn't talking so much. "Fuck, I'm close. Gonna cum inside you, Stu. Y'into that?" Laughing at himself, despite how close he was, how overwhelmed he might have been. "Probably." Biting his lip. Oh, shit. Fuck. Fuck! I’m gonna-" 

Stuart couldn’t agree more as he squeezed his eyes shut again, one hand fisted in his sheets, the other gripping his panties over the head of his dick (just for easy cleanup, promise), and pressing himself down on the toy as far as he could, before he finally let go and allowed himself to climax.

Barely seconds after Murdoc. At the very least, he lasted the longest.

Stuart fell back against his bed, quite dramatically actually, absolutely exhausted but happily recovering from what might have been the best orgasm he'd had in his life. Or at least the best one he'd had all week. And that amounted to something, considering the amount of orgasms he had on just a daily basis.

His mind also reeling somewhat, just considering how he'd essentially gotten off just from watching someone else jerk off and talk idly on his computer, and how much he'd enjoyed getting off to it. 

Was this how the people who watched his videos felt? Maybe he sort of understood the very vocal enthusiasm all of a sudden, since he was certainly in the mood to give some of that. Should he tip Murdoc for particularly good service and etiquette as well?

It seemed Murdoc was well spent himself, judging by the way he had practically collapsed into his chair and how he hadn't been bothered to tuck or hide away his slowly softening dick just yet as he recovered. His chest rapidly and then gradually rising and falling as he tried to get his breath back, his silver cross around his neck glinting in the light of his computer monitor in a way that Stuart kind of liked.

Stuart made an effort to get himself a little more comfortable now that he had efficiently crashed out for the night. Tucking himself under his duvet and curling up on his side, slowly removing the toy and letting it slide onto his floor. Residing to just clean up after himself tomorrow (knowing there was plenty to clean as well) and let himself rest after such an intense session.

"Y'alright there? Not dead or nothing, right?" He finally asked, after a few moments of semi-comfortable silence from both their ends, just to make sure that Murdoc hadn't accidentally died after a really good orgasm (though to be fair, there were worse ways to go.)

But Murdoc flashed him a quick thumbs up without raising his head, which was enough to reassure Stuart, before he tucked himself away and zipped up his spunk covered jeans, as if none of that had even happened. 

"Wow." Murdoc eventually mumbled after staring into space for a while, finally sitting up and pushing his hair out of his sweaty face. "That was...wow. Yeah. Well done."

"Cheers." Stuart replied with a giggle, crossing his arms underneath his chin and trying to shuffle deeper under his duvet. 

"How much is it for this kind of thing again? Cus...mate." Murdoc paused to change his position, moving to his desk again and propping his chin up on his arm. Grinning to himself "I think I'm gonna go bankrupt hiring you every night."

"Maybe for you, I'll offer it at a discounted price." Stuart mused thoughtfully, his head tipped to one side as he reached down to drag his panties down his legs (for comfort reasons, of course.) "Does 'for free' sound reasonable enough?" Flashing the screen a coy smile.

"Sounds very reasonable actually." Murdoc replied with an equally coy grin. Stuart could practically see the hearts in his eyes as he gazed at his computer, completely transparent for the first time during their call. "You that generous with all your one-on-one customers?"

"No no. You're part of a very exclusive club now." Stuart started, sitting up to stash the panties away somewhere safe, just as a reminder. Probably flashing Murdoc his ass in the process, but he was sure that the older man wouldn't have complained. "That's just one of the perks." Lying back down, pulling his duvet up around his neck. "There will be plenty more."

"How exclusive we talkin' here?" Murdoc asked, with a raised, curious eyebrow.

"You're the only member so far, but I'm adaptable." 

"That sounds an awful lot like being a boyfriend." An amused smile ever present.

"That might be one of the terms, yes." As innocent as fucking ever.

Murdoc chuckled again, sounding much softer and much more tired than he did before, but Stuart couldn't help but let a pang of further infatuation hit him right in the weak parts of the heart when he heard it. Even more when Murdoc smiled, as tiredly as his laugh.

"I can try that. If that's what you'd like to do."

"I'd like that very much." Stuart replied, as earnestly as he could when he was so worn out. "I've kind of thought about you ever since you first came to one of my streams. So it was never one sided, if that's what you thought."

"Well, that's very affirming to hear. Since I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the second I saw you." Smiling warmly as he idly twisted in his office chair. "My pretty little doll."

"Nooo, don't say it like that." Stuart whined, pulling his duvet over his head stubbornly, which made Murdoc laugh. "I'm too tired t'get hard again."

"Too fuckin' right. I'm tired as shit." Murdoc groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Best get to bed. You should too, you look exhausted."

"Yeah but..." Pulling his duvet away again and pouting irritably. "I don't want this to go away just yet."

"I'll be here in the morning, angel. And anytime after that as well."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY FINISHED WITH THIS MONSTER OF A FUCKING QUADRUPLE FEATURE HOLY FUCK!!! are you guys proud of me? i'm proud of me
> 
> i really love this au and any ideas that align with this so if i re-publish this a little polished and add some russdel domestic stuff along the way don't be surprised cus i lurve this fic with all my heart (even though it took three fckin months to finish g-d damn)
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if you wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


	11. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinktober day 12: humiliation/vulnerability   
> 2nd person, murdoc's pov

He was waiting for you the moment you left the prison.

A perfect July evening, the sun setting over the tops of the trees, a gentle and pleasant breeze to the air without sacrificing a blissful heat, not a single cloud in the sky to ruin the weather.

It was as if the day had been made just for the two of you.

He was leaning against the car as you left, his perfectly lithe body (looking stunning as ever, he hadn’t changed a bit since you’d been in prison, naturally) against the drivers side, a flirty and warm smile on his face as you walk up the path towards him. A pair of sunglasses perched in his shorter-than-normal hair (still suits him though), the cut of his clothes tighter than you were used to, though you were by no means going to complain when he looked that good.

Looking almost picturesque, a pretty little thing against the 1969 Chevrolet Camaro that represented so much from your past, but things that neither of you could care to think about. Not now, not ever again.

No more dwellings on the past.

When you stopped in front of him, you’re stupid and desperate enough to take him into your arms and kiss him harder than you had before, before you even had the chance to greet him, relishing in the feeling of another human being against yours, his body against yours once again, after so many months of pining for it. You could feel his amused smile against your lips and he threw his arms around your neck, melting into the kiss. Maybe he’d been pining for the same thing.

He felt exactly the same, tasted the same (the smoke was thick on his tongue, must have had a cigarette on his way here), and you’re absolutely addicted to it.

You must have dreamed of this moment every night for weeks, if not months, and finally being able to realize it is slightly overwhelming but your heart almost hurt from how happy you were to have him in your arms again.

He pulled away from you with a breathless giggle, still so close to you that you could feel his breath on your skin. He pushed a hand through your hair, stroking through it, probably just as happy as you were to finally feel you again, a dream like smile on his beautiful and freckled face.

“Hello to you too, darlin’.” He said softly, and you couldn’t help but kiss him again which he allowed you to do with a pleased moan, softly gripping your hair the way that you used to do.

Your tangled bodies lean against the car, and you grip the rim of the rolled down window, pinning your bodies together just so that you would have the chance to enjoy the much needed closeness for a little longer without either of you pulling away.

You didn’t care if any of the guards or cops could see the two of you outside the station, would cuss out anyone who tried to stop you when you’ve both needed it for so long.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You murmured against his lips between hot and heavy kisses, and he smiled again, running his fingers down your cheek, cupping your jaw. You keened against his touch, feeling so vulnerable but so, so safe again.

“I missed you too.” He replied, pressing a kiss against your cheek, graciously ignoring the tears that beaded in your eyes, the single one rolling down the cheek he kissed.

He’s too good for you, far far too good.

You’d do anything to show him just how good he was.

-

He’d had the proper hindsight to book a out of the way motel room for the night, so not to try and trek all the way back to Essex after picking you up

You offered to drive, and you kept a possessive hand resting on his thigh all throughout the drive as he watched the sun set. Watching as the reds, oranges and purples of the summer sky faded to a deep midnight blue, speckled with stars like holes in a canvas. He took in deep breaths of the clean, crisp country air, and looked at you like he had found the only peace that he might have needed.

He was beautiful, stunning, any other synonym that would have only been the beginning of how to describe him. You could only lament that you being in prison for the last six months was the thing that re awoke your adoration for him.

Better late than never, you supposed.

While you parked the car at the back of the motel, he picked up your room key, a double room which “made the old bat at the help desk raise her eyebrows” as he so eloquently put it.

Truth be told, you just wanted to get him into that room and get the door shut behind you so you would finally be able to touch him just the way you wanted to, just as hard and fast and as loudly as you wanted to. And from the look in his eye he had as he unlocked the door, smirking softly at you as he pushed it open, he wanted exactly the same thing.

Good to know that he hadn’t changed either.

He was quick to pull you into a hard kiss, gripping the front of your shirt and keeping you still out of surprise alone. Licking over the parting in your lips, wordlessly asking permission to push the kiss further, and when he pressed his tongue into your mouth, he pushed you hard against the back of the bedroom door, hard enough that it even hurts, just a little bit.

He restlessly ground his hips down against yours (he’s hard already, though to be fair, you had been the second you saw him) and moans against your lips like he’d been starved of attention for his entire life.

When your own hands tried to drift down his sides and to his hips, maybe to invite his body open just a little more, he slapped your hands away. Gripping your wrists and forcing them up and above your head with one hand, pinning them against the door like he did your body.

“You’re going to do what I say.” He near growled as he pulled away from the kiss, his tongue darting out to lap away the string of saliva that joined your lips. “And I’m going to look after you. I’m going to make you feel good.” His free hand drifting down your front, casually unbuttoning the buttons of your shirt with a coy smile, before his eyes drift up to match yours again. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You whispered back with a curt nod, and he moved in again. Catching your bottom lip in his teeth and giving it a daring bite before capturing you in another hard kiss that made your head swim.

You stayed like that for a little while longer. Bodies tangled with fierce kisses, him lazily stripping you of your clothes and you unbearably confused but unabashedly aroused that it almost made your head hurt.

The sounds that your mouths made moving against each other were absolutely obscene and filthy but so erotic that you could feel yourself throb even harder underneath your tight jeans, which you were seconds away from begging for release from. Eventually, and after too much coy teasing, his free hand slipped down to cup you roughly through your jeans, kneading his fingers against you, and you had to pull away from the kiss to groan, though when it was so drawled out and high pitched, it might have been a whine.

“Well, that’s very sweet.” He said, with a teasing smile at your expense, pressing equally teasing kisses and barely there bites down the front of your throat. Where everyone would see, of course. Not like you cared. Because you didn’t.

“Please…” You practically whimpered, trying to wrench your hands away from his, but he kept his grip on you strong. “Stop fucking teasing and touch me already.”

“I could do you one better, if you want.” He offered with an almost innocent tone, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping a slightly cupped hand against your tented boxers. Even the slightest touch from him was enough to drive you crazy. “I could ride you. Let you fuck my brains out. I know how much you’ve wanted to since I picked you up.” You felt him grin against your neck. “You’re not subtle at all, by the way.”

“Sweet fucking Satan, please-”

“As long as you agree to two things, that is. Just two little things I want you to do for me, alright?” He interrupted you, pulling far enough away to give you an almost smug smile that all you could do was blink at before he gripped your dick and did it  **fucking hard.**  Hard enough that you practically howled loud enough to cause complaints, had anyone been staying at this place. “Should I take that as a yes then?”

“Yes, yes, anything, anything you want.” You said quickly, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists, unsure if you wanted him to let go of you or keep going.

“That’s a good boy.” He purred softly, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek before he let go of your now throbbing dick and moved away from you to the other side of the room. To where he’d put his overnight back for the evening.

From which he removed two things.

A heavy pair of steel handcuffs, the sort that actually used a key to lock rather than a clasping mechanism, the sort that had been used on you at a near daily basis for the last six months, and a swinging choke chain, long and dangerous looking. Both items already being enough to make your blood run cold despite the hot heat in your face (and…somewhere else).

“Let me have you. Just the way that I want to.” Stuart said, with a sweet smile, as if he wasn’t brandishing weapons to tear you apart at the very seams.

-

He handcuffs you to the bed with a feverish, excited enthusiasm that could only be described as unsettling. Slipping the collar of the choke chain over your head and tightening it with a similar ecstatic glee that made you nervous, though didn’t quell your arousal at all.

You’re uncomfortable, sure, and maybe you’re allowing him a little too much freedom than you used to, but you’re not going to say that, obviously. You want him, need him to trust you again, and for legitimate reasons this time, not just because he saw something in you that he shouldn’t have.

You were a better person now, you’d changed for the better, you weren’t like you used to be.

So that’s why you don’t complain when he pulls the chain so tight that you struggle to breath, or about how he hasn’t left nearly enough wiggle room in the cuffs and how the metal was threatening to break the skin.

He doesn’t bother to prep himself before he’s sliding a heavily lubed condom over your dick, pulling the tight latex down your length and quickly straddling your hips, lining his entrance with the head of your dick. Pressing his hips down, little by little, letting you really and truly feel him and explore him the way you’d fantasized over for months, before letting you push deep inside of him with a long, delighted sounding moan.

Hands immediately going to your front, allowing himself a little more leverage and balance as he eagerly rode your dick like he was born to do it.

“Holy fuck, that’s it. Right there. Keep going.” He moaned like a porn star, allowing his words to be drawn out and dumb sounding, building up his pace little by little and grabbing for the trailing length of the choke chain and pulling at it hard, making your breath and words hitch even more in your throat. “Fuuuck!~” Throwing his head back in a hedonistic display that made your dick throb even harder. “You’re all mine, aren’t you, Murdoc? Say it back for me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“I-I’m yours, babe.” You managed to get out with a sharp gasp, despite the tight hold on your throat and the distracting way the sharp metal handcuffs dug into your wrists, cutting lines amongst the dashed white scars. Probably breaking the skin by now. "Only yours.“

You really hated to draw comparisons between something as good as this, and something as awful as prison had been, but you can’t help but be reminded of it when you’re handcuffed and under someone with significantly more power than you. You don’t know why but your dick throbs a little harder when you think about it.

Eroticising your traumas. Just the way he did it.

"Yeah, you are. All fucking mine.” A delirious and somewhat unnerving giggle couldn’t help itself from slipping from Stuart’s lips, but he rewarded your obedience with a deliciously tight squeeze against your dick that made you see stars and your vision go spotty.

You could feel your adam’s apple bob underneath the thick chain, and when he pulled at it harder, the nervous swallow at his obvious and badly disguised anger hurts a little too much to be pleasurable. You’re not going to say a word of complaint about it though, you wouldn’t even think about telling him how much it hurt, not when he looked so blissed out and delighted.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

Even his anger is beautiful.

The burning in his eyes, the possessive grip on the choke chain, the way his painted nails dug into your chest when he pressed his hips down against your dick, riding you like a trooper despite whatever resentment he was quelling for the sake of his own enjoyment. The parting of his lips when the anger subsides for just a moment and he loses himself in pleasure.

He’s not subtle either, but he doesn’t need to be.

You jut your hips up hard, pushing yourself up deep him to the base of your dick and the surprised, wide-eyed gasp he lets out to your moment of characteristic force is worth the punishment of a hard tug of the choke chain that restricts your breathing even more.

If there’s anyway you want to go, it’s under him.

"God, you drive me fucking mad sometimes.” He manages to say with an annoyed sneer, between his gasps and moans as he rides you even harder, even faster. “Everyone told me to get over you while you were away, ya know that. Said I should forget about you.” He accentuated his point by dragging his nails down your chest, leaving harsh lines down your skin. “Like I could ever forget about this.” He let out a rough chuckle as he pressed himself down on you and clenched himself tight. Biting his lip, tossing his fringe out his face. You feel closer just looking at him. “About you.”

“I love you.” You say, your voice raspy and forced between deep and painful breaths. You don’t know if it’s the pain, the oxygen deprivation or being so vulnerable underneath him, but you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. “I love you so much.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He says roughly, and even though it hurts, you know it’s true.

It’s the same thing you’d told yourself for months while you’d been locked away, and somehow, he’s able to see right inside of your head and pick you apart, like he always could.

You nod your head and try to blink past the tears in your eyes. Either he doesn’t notice them or he ignores them when they fall down your cheeks. You don’t know if you appreciate the gesture or which he would pay attention to your pain.

“Has it really gotten to that, Murdoc?” He asks, his head slightly cocked and his expression completely unreadable. Melancholy, anger, confusion, you weren’t that sure. “You can’t even defend yourself anymore? You can’t even ask if I love you back?” He blinks his wide eyes at you. “Do you think I’ve stopped?”

You say nothing, unable to hear what he might have said, just blink past your tears and try to look away, tugging loosely at your handcuffs. Suddenly hyper aware of the red groves they left in your skin, conscious of the scars that so closely match his own.

You can’t help but wonder how many of them you caused, if he knew how many he had caused.

“Look at me.” He says, his voice almost firm, and before you can respond, he grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look into his black, empty eyes. And for some reason, it’s more terrifying than anything you’d faced for the past six months in prison. The expressionless mask his blood filled eyes gave him.

You’re sure the only reason you haven’t gone soft is his consistent pace and the wonderful pressure he puts on your dick every now and then.

“I want to hurt you so badly sometimes. I want to tear you apart.” He says, like an admission of defeat, and for whatever reason, it feels like he already is. “I want to break your seams and expose every part of you to the world. Wanna get rid of this shitty goth-rocker persona and see a real fucking person for once.” Letting out a shaky breath with a frown. “I want to see all the soft parts that you’ve hardened just so you’d never get hurt again.”

He drops the chain against your stomach, and the grip on your chin turns more into a delicate cradle. His hands are shaking though his body is overwhelmingly still.

“I love you so, so fucking much, Murdoc. I hate you but I love you so much that I’d fucking die for you. You know that?” There’s a thickness to his voice that matches your own, and heavy tears bead on his waterline, threatening to spill. “I love you so much that I just want to rip you apart sometimes. You make me so fucking angry with this bullshit persona you can’t let go of. Pretending like you don’t care.” He presses his forehead against yours and his eyes close solumely with a heavy sigh. Neither of you can stop the tears stream down your cheeks. “I just want you to stop hurting, babe. I want to get rid of all that anger inside of you. I want you to be soft again. I know you were once.”

You’re speechless, both of you are, for maybe the first time in the twenty years you’ve known each other, and all he could do was chuckle softly, shaking his head as if he was admitting a kind of defeat, sounding utterly exhausted.

He eases himself off of you with a slight grimace and a hiss and rests his light body against your stomach, figuring out that the situation the two of you had gotten yourselves into probably wasn’t gonna result in a satisfactory orgasm for either of you.

But that was okay. You had time now. You’d make it up to him in the future.

“I spent so long thinking I was the nutcase of the band, ya know?” He says, his shaking hands slipping down your neck and loosening the choke chain. Tender fingers stroking over the groves that were sure to bruise. “When really, all you lot were just as fucked up as I was. Figured that out while you were gone.”

Slipping the chain over your head gives you a much needed breath of fresh air, and his expression is almost humorously apologetic when he pushes a hand through his sweaty hair and wipes his tears away with the back of his hand.

“I never thought you’d need looking after too. Funny that, ennit?”

You’re still speechless as he gets up from the bed with a pained groan, retrieving the key from the pocket of his jeans on the other side of the room. Just watching as his body arches over yours, unlocking the tight handcuffs and helping you slip them off of your wrists, rubbing away at the dark lines the metal left on your skin.

“Want me to pull you off, or…?” He asked, with a less than subtle nod towards your still hard dick that makes you frown a little in embarrassment.

You just shook your head silently, still trying to massage feeling back into your fingers.

“Have I ruined it?” He asks quietly, sitting back at the foot of the bed, as if he was trying to give you some kind of distance.

“No.” You say, after a moment of too heavy silence with a steady breath, moving up the bed and closer towards him. Resting a hand against his thigh and gently coaxing his chin up with the other. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

He moves close to you and you kiss, softly and sweetly for maybe a few seconds, a nearly perfect amount of time, before you pull away from each other.

You can fix this. There’s time to fix it now.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, and for the first time in years, just that is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS BUSY WRITING A DISSERTATION AND GETTING A DEGREE I GOT A 2:1 DON'T @ ME!!!!!
> 
> i wrote this for murdoc's bday and figured i could continue this bad kink train with some longer shit that i'm writing enjoy yourselves next update comes whenever i feel like it fucker
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com (consider donating to my ko-fi if u wanna support me!!)  
> ray x


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